


Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife

by Jadeile



Series: Afterlife-verse [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Blood and Guts, Casual Murder, Depression, Domesticity, Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Gambling Addiction, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I'll post a trigger warning when it's relevant, Lots of cooking and eating, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Romance, Slight internalized acephobia, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, aroace character, casual sexism, lots of swearing, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeile/pseuds/Jadeile
Summary: Husk is just your everyday demon, minding his own business and living his afterlife mostly in self-caused misery. He’s been at it for about ten years when he rather abruptly finds himself on the Radio Demon's radar. Suddenly his life becomes a lot more interesting.For fuck's sake, he did not ask for this bullshit.(Rated M for Murder etc, not for smut)
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Afterlife-verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600039
Comments: 1110
Kudos: 1368





	1. It started with a dart

**Author's Note:**

> By the way! This is also available in Russian [at Ficbook](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8941279).  
> Also German [at Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/story/146980439-shit-the-radio-demon-is-a-part-of-my-afterlife).

Husk, generally, did not give a shit about anything that was going on around him, unless it directly concerned him. He had stopped caring about midway through his life, and had continued that trend for the roughly ten years he had been dead. Or okay, that was slightly inaccurate: he had cared until roughly his 50s, until the stupid ass war stripped any mushy sentiments right out of him and drove him to alcoholism. But the rest still stood.

This situation, however, directly concerned him. It concerned literally fucking everyone in the room.

The Radio Demon had just walked into the pub he was in. One moment the place was just depressing and bleak, but at least had cheap alcohol. The next moment one of the most dangerous demons in Hell simply waltzed in like he owned the place, looking around with a creepy grin and glowing, red eyes.

How did this affect Husk? Oh, only because the Radio Demon was known for indiscriminating massacres that nobody survived and he was in the same room with the guy! That meant he was way too likely to be turned into a bloody mess on the floor any moment now, which wasn’t particularly desirable.

His options? One, run or sneak for the door, or find a place to hide within the pub. That was stupid, because the Radio Demon might find that offensive and kill him, even if it turned out he hadn’t planned on doing that from the start.

Two, attempt to make nice with the guy in the hopes that he’d be spared. That was even more foolish, because Husk was really shit at making nice with people, and the Radio Demon wasn’t exactly known for being approachable.

Three, attack the guy and hope to overpower him so that he couldn’t kill him first. That was obviously really fucking moronic, because nobody survived that.

Four, do nothing and hope for the best. This was what Husk planned to do. After all, there was a slim chance that the Radio Demon was looking for someone in particular and wouldn’t bother slaughtering random people on the side, in which case it was for the best to just not attract his attention or provoke him in any manner. Simply mind your own fucking business and let him mind his.

Mind made up, Husk lifted his beer to his lips and took a sip, carefully ignoring the rest of the pub. If he was gonna die again, he might as well try to finish his booze first – no sense wasting it.

Eventually his mug was empty and he was still alive, so he figured this was going way better than he had honestly anticipated. Nobody had died – to his knowledge anyway – yet the Radio Demon’s very distinctive voice could still occasionally be heard, which meant he was still around. Perhaps he wasn't here to kill anyone after all?

Husk glanced around discreetly and spotted the guy at the counter, sipping from a whiskey glass and unnerving the bartender with his presence. Huh. So he could behave civilly, it seemed. Fancy that. It didn’t make Husk feel any less jittery, though, especially when he noticed that the crowd had thinned considerably since his last look around; most of the other demons had slipped out at some point or another to avoid a potential messy death. Only the most pathetically depressed or the most drunk ones had stayed despite the danger. And Husk himself.

He considered following the very sensible example of the other, clearly better tacticians… but then he spotted the darts board, free for the first time for the night. Everyone who was sober enough to play had left while they could.

Man, there was always a scuffle for that dumb thing because it was one of the only entertainments in this dull place. And now it could be all his.

Radio Demon or not, he was claiming that shit.

Husk got up from his chair and made his way over to the board, a small grin on his face. Hah, he wouldn’t even have to worry about some drunkard paired with a shitty aim forcibly joining him and poking his eyes out with the sharp objects, what with there being almost nobody around anymore. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all.

A few more minutes went by peacefully with Husk enjoying his solitary game of darts, until one of the other remaining demons, a guy who had been sitting close to the darts board and was thus on Husk’s radar, stood up suspiciously carefully. The guy was a hulking crocodile or some shit, and very obviously not nearly as drunk as he had pretended to be earlier. He glanced around gleefully and started creeping towards the Radio Demon with measured moves. He slid an old looking switchblade out of his back pocket on the way, flicked the blade out, and kept it hidden behind his back as he moved closer.

The coast certainly looked clear for an assault attempt. The bartender was not paying any attention to anything other than his desperate attempts to avoid having to interact with the Radio Demon, and said demon had dug out a pocket-sized book from somewhere and was engrossed in it, not paying much attention to his surroundings.

Now, Husk still didn’t give a fuck about others. He didn’t care if the Radio Demon got murdered, should this idiot get lucky with his attempt. But he did care about the fact that if this crocodile guy fucked this up, he would probably piss the Radio Demon off.

Husk didn’t want to be in the same room with a pissed off Radio Demon.

Again, choices needed to be made, and fast at that. Run or hide. Yell to get the Radio Demon’s attention. Attack. Do nothing.

The crocodile demon was already a few steps behind his target, and starting to bring the knife up silently and without sudden movements so to not alert his target to his presence. That meant there was too little time to run or hide without looking like an accomplice. Doing nothing would only be viable if the crocodile succeeded, and Husk wouldn't put his money on that chance.

Fucking shit.

Husk turned fully around, and in one fluid motion threw the dart he had been holding at the crocodile demon. It flew beautifully in a straight line through the air – Husk was good at darts, if he did say so himself – and pierced the back of his target’s right shoulder, or at least hit him there hard enough to be felt. That was enough to make the crocodile yelp in pain and drop the blade he had been holding. Both weapons clattered to the floor, sounding unnaturally loud in the mostly quiet bar.

The Radio Demon spun around on his bar stool, mild surprise written across his still grinning face. Or at least Husk thought the expression was surprise.

“Hmm? Did someone intervene or are you simply this incompetent?” he asked, and stood up daintily. The crocodile flinched back, but then dropped on one knee and frantically groped for his knife. What an idiot; did he not remember he had claws and fangs more readily available than the stupid switchblade, now that things had gone pear shaped?

The Radio Demon raised an eyebrow, and his smirk widened dangerously. “No matter, I suppose.”

The crocodile demon found his weapon and leaped up, yelling. The Radio Demon snapped his fingers, and suddenly most of the lights in the bar went out. The lengthened shadows morphed into physical spikes and promptly impaled the assassin from multiple directions before the knife could reach its target.

For a second, everything was still, silent, and dark. Lines of blood started running down the lengths of the spikes, the deep red glistening eye-catchingly on the weird black surface.

Then the spikes withdrew and the poor idiot hit the floor limply, the knife dropping from his fingers once more with a clatter. The lights returned, and a pool of blood started forming around the dead body.

Husk was frozen on his spot, staring with wide eyes. Some others, who were closer to the door, screamed in terror and escaped.

The Radio Demon stepped closer to the body, bent down, and picked something up, completely unfazed by everything.

The dart.

Oh, shit.

Their eyes met. After all, it didn’t take a genius to trace a dart back to the person standing by the dart board.

His eyes were very noticeably red, even from this distance. Very intense.

And then they vanished on the spot. Husk blinked in confusion and his wings flared a bit in alarm.

And then he was grabbed into a snug side-hug.

“Good evening, my unexpected, yet not unappreciated helper!” the Radio Demon practically yelled right into his ear, all static and tinny radio voice, and squeezed him harder.

What the fuck was going on? Was this an attack? Surely this had to be an attack; it didn’t make sense that he was being… hugged by the well known bloody psychopath.

“My name is Alastor, pleasure to meet you!” the Radio Demon said, spun him around like a ragdoll, grabbed a hold of his right paw, and shook it enthusiastically. Husk simply stared in bewilderment and concentrated on not losing his footing; his wings and tail flailing to keep his balance. “What should I call you, friend?”

Friend?

“Uh, Husk”, he answered automatically, finally managing to adjust his stance to a more stable one. His mind was an entirely different matter.

“Husker it is”, the Radio Demon, Alastor, said with a wide smile. And then his hands were all over Husk again, fluffing his fur, touching his ears, smoothing over his wings…

“What the fuck!” Husk yelled and leaped back, the fur on the back of his neck and on his shoulders standing up in shock. “Hey, hands off! What the hell makes you think you can just touch me like that?!”

Alastor’s eyes and grin widened as he stared at the now fluffed up fur in obvious fascination. He disappeared again and immediately afterwards appeared right in Husk’s face. His fingers were carding through the fur on Husk’s shoulders like he had every right to do so.

“I haven’t encountered a cat demon before”, Alastor said, and blocked a swipe of Husk’s claws with a microphone stand that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago. “And you’re so soft, too! Why, I don’t believe I’ve felt anything this pleasant during my entire stay here! Hahaha!”

Okay, that was technically a compliment, but for fuck's sake! Husk pushed Alastor away, only to have the other demon appear behind him and wrap both arms around him, incidentally trapping his arms and wings against his sides.

“Now now, this will be easier for both of us if you stop your futile resistance”, Alastor said, and fucking nuzzled the side of his neck with his pointy nose. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Well, that was largely the problem! He could understand the situation if the Radio Demon was chopping him to bits of something, but this? This was messed up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a murder-happy psychopath?” Husk asked, but stopped fighting anyway; Alastor was obviously hell-bent on petting him, and his struggling hadn't made any difference so far. Might as well conserve his energy. “Pretty sure fucking cuddling and other touchy-feely bullshit doesn’t fit the picture.”

Alastor laughed, and pressed his forehead against the back of Husk’s head, right between his ears. His gloveless hands – Husk hadn’t noticed that part before – were scratching his chest, buried in his abundant fur there. “Oh, I’m not denying any of that! I simply don’t let anyone tell me who to be or what to do. I tired of that early enough during life and never submitted to in my afterlife. No no no, I’m not limiting my actions based on how others view me. One could say that the vice that got me in Hell was pure hedonism. Although the fact that one of my pleasures is murder might have contributed to it.”

That was not reassuring in the slightest. Husk shivered, and looked down at the hands violating his person, nervousness racking up now that his will to fight had died down. Alastor could probably do just about whatever he wanted and Husk wouldn't be able to stop him. “And how…” He swallowed, and tried to keep his voice steady. “Just how far are you planning to take-”

Alastor suddenly vanished again, and appeared in front of him. He was still smiling widely, but something about it was different, somehow; Husk didn’t know him well enough to read him and determine what it was. And frankly, he was just relieved to have some space again. He ruffled his wings and crossed his arms, while his tail wrapped itself around his feet.

“Now that, my friend, is not something you will ever need to worry about with me”, Alastor said, and pulled his gloves back on nonchalantly. “Regardless, it was really a pleasure to meet you. Who knows, maybe we will run into each other again sometime. Hahaha!”

And, just like fucking that, the Radio Demon vanished. He didn’t re-appear anywhere in the pub, he was simply gone.

Husk sat down on the nearest seat with a shaky sigh.

He wasn’t sure what the fuck just happened, but at least he was alive.

He needed a damn drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this [damn excellent piece of fanart for this chapter!](https://www.deviantart.com/oppiethedragon/art/It-Started-With-a-Dart-831230182)<3


	2. Card tricks and broadcasts

Husk didn't do this often. He liked to gain and spend his money at the casinos, not actually do honest work for it. After all, this was his afterlife; he had gotten sick and tired of working for a wage in life, and his death was supposed to be free of that bullshit, Hell or not. But here he was anyway, at some semi-big name demon's party, doing card tricks with some other parlor magic mixed in. It was all because a friend of his neighbour's friend had asked around for a stage magician, and unfortunately his neighbour knew he dabbled in that shit. So, he had been asked to provide his brand entertainment for the party, and because the pay was excellent for such a simple and halfway pleasant job – not to mention it being a one-off thing and lasting just a few hours – he had ended up agreeing.

He was actually having a good time, whether he wanted to admit it or not. His audience came and left, some insulting him and some not, but most of them stayed around long enough for him to know that deep-down they were impressed. In Hell, that was as good as it got. And if there was one thing he actually still loved, it was magic tricks. It didn't matter too much if he didn't get oohs and aahs for it as long as he got the satisfaction of his audience clearly not knowing how he did it. Which these morons were very obvious about.

So when the Radio Demon appeared on the stage in front of him, he was actually almost as pissed off as he was scared. Had it been any random demon, he would have ripped them a new one for ruining his gig. But since this was the Radio Demon, and their single, semi-amicable meeting had been months ago, he wasn't exactly inclined to express his anger. The psychopath likely wouldn't even remember some random demon like him, much less let any brief interaction come between him and murder.

"Good day, sinners and demons!" the Radio Demon said into his mic, and his voice was amplified to be heard all around the mansion. Or rather, it was like there were speakers hidden all around to broadcast his voice. Maybe there were, maybe there weren't – it probably didn't matter much to someone that powerful.

Every demon in sight froze. Husk quietly stuffed his cards into the sleeves of his magician's coat and took a small, experimental step back, hoping to go unnoticed. It seemed like he was in luck – as much as anything in this rotten situation could be called that – as the Radio Demon didn't react to it in any manner. So, he continued taking quiet steps backwards, slowly but steadily, hoping he could hide behind the small curtain in the back with the rest of his magic equipment. He could think of a better plan once he was out of sight and immediate danger.

"Because your gracious host is on my blacklist, all of you get to be a part of today's broadcast!" The Radio Demon announced cheerfully, like the demons around were supposed to rejoice in their imminent doom. "So be polite and scream to your heart's content for my listeners!"

Shit.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then absolute bedlam broke out. There was panicked screaming and people trying to get to the doors or windows, only to find them blocked by shadowy figures. Some small folk got trampled by the bigger demons on their frantic quest to escape. Some were killed purposefully by others, who were taking this opportunity to cut loose since they were all going to be dead anyway. It was pure madness.

The Radio Demon laughed in what sounded like sincere glee, and then turned sharply around to pin Husk – who was about halfway to his chosen hidey-hole – to his spot with a manic and deadly grin, paired with radio dial eyes. The obvious meaning of that look was extremely clear: Husk was to become his first target.

Fuck.

Unexpectedly, the Radio Demon froze in his tracks and blinked a few times in what Husk tentatively described as mild confusion, before the deadly look vanished and a regular big smile replaced it.

"Husker, if it isn't you!" he said excitedly, and pulled Husk into a side-hug, just like last time. Obviously he was remembered, after all; and positively at that. "Excuse me for ruining your show; that wasn't my intention at all. Do you do stand-up comedy?"

Husk was suffering from some serious emotional whiplash, but like fuck he was going to let anyone, Radio Demon or not, think he was doing stand-up comedy!

"Fuck no! Do I look like a fucking clown to you?" he raged, his wings trying to flare out, only to be blocked by Alastor's arm around him.

Alastor's grin widened, and he laughed merrily, squishing Husk even closer. "Maybe! I'll have you know those two professions are quite different, actually. But I digress. I'm in a bit of a schedule here, so I'll ask you about your show some other time."

He quickly nuzzled Husk's cheek, and then briskly walked the both of them to the edge of the stage. Husk saw that, despite the Radio Demon doing jack shit, the chaos was still ongoing and the floor and the walls were already covered in generous amounts of blood, guts, and dead bodies.

"Isn't that beautiful?" Alastor asked, grin turning disturbing again and his eyes narrowing in delight. "Entertaining? Look how the desperate demons attempt anything and everything they can think of to make it out of here alive, only to inevitably fail in their pointless endeavor! I don't have to lift a single finger and there's already bloodshed and carnage! Hahaha!"

Clearly they had a very different idea for what counted as entertainment or as beautiful. Husk was mostly feeling sick to his stomach and averting his eyes from the most gruesome bits. He had killed his share of people during the war, but it was frankly quite different and coincidentally one of the things that had driven him to drinking. Now, a decade in Hell had desensitized him to this shit to some extent, and he could and would kill if necessary, but he certainly didn't enjoy it. Especially not in the manner the Radio Demon clearly did.

"Would you like to participate in the fun with me, or simply stay out of the way?" Alastor asked, and finally let go of Husk, if only so he could… transform… into some kind of a freaky were-deer monster…

Nope. Fuck no.

"I'd rather stay up here, thanks", Husk said, trying to keep his voice steady and Not. Stare.

"Suit yourself", the Radio Demon said, voice deeper and even more staticky than usual. He then jumped off the stage without further ado and went on a merry killing spree.

He was actually tearing demons twice his size apart with his bare teeth and claws, and swallowing whatever didn't happen to drop from his mouth. And that was only the tip of the gory iceberg. Husk stood still for a moment and watched the horror show, unable to look away. It was like a train wreck: horrifyingly fascinating and you just had to know what happened next, no matter how disturbed you were. 

Eventually he snapped out of it and hurriedly shuffled away to the very back of the stage, keeping his back against the wall and his eyes glued to the curtain for any movement. There was a cassette player on a small table in a corner, and it had turned itself on to redundantly play the screams all around him back to him. He idly wondered if Alastor had broadcasted their little conversation, too, and whether that should make him worried or not. He knew he would never ever ask about it, even if the opportunity presented itself; he didn't really want to know if the answer happened to be 'yes'.

Speaking of worrisome things, apparently the fact that he had spoken with Alastor once before had just saved his life. He wasn't sure how relieved he was supposed to be. On one hand, not dying a gruesome death and having to deal with the agony of a slow resurrection – what kind of a Hell would this place be if you could escape it by dying, after all – was always nice. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to be chummy with anyone, much less the Radio Demon. It could only spell trouble.

Problem was, he didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter, unless he wanted to end up on the blacklist that had been mentioned earlier. His only hope was that Alastor didn't plan on purposefully spending time with him, and they could keep their relations to accidentally running into each other and Husk not dying because Alastor liked him for some reason.

Fuck, he needed a drink. Preferably something strong. Maybe vodka. Or undiluted absinthe. Or rectified spirits. He was willing to drink pure ethanol at this point.

He stayed huddled in his safe-ish spot and did his level best at keeping his war-related flashbacks away until the screams turned into moans, and the moans turned into silence. For a moment the only sound around was a heavy, staticky breathing from the cassette player.

" _That's all the fun for today, folks! Thank you for listening. As always, my name is Alastor; have a pleasant evening_ ", said the cassette player in question, and then it turned off on its own.

It was officially over. Finally, it was fucking over.

Husk uncurled himself from the tight little ball he had become, stretched his stiff limbs and got off the floor just in time for Alastor to appear beside him.

"Good to see you still in one piece", Alastor said cheerfully. He looked normal again, and there was no evidence of him having slaughtered a mansion full of people just a moment ago. Not a single drop of blood on his coat or face, and not a strand of hair out of place. No demon meat or blood between his widely smiling teeth.

Husk wasn't sure if being immaculate was better or worse than him being drenched in the blood of his enemies like a normal mass-murderer would have been after a massacre of this proportion. Though he was unquestionably glad about the blood-free teeth.

"I suppose", he answered noncommittally, and rubbed at his face tiredly. He was physically fine, but mentally so damn tired and probably had new traumas to pile on top of his existing ones. There'd be nightmares galore tonight. "You done here? I know I am; my audience is dead. At least I got paid in advance."

Alastor laughed hard at that, apparently finding his words particularly hilarious. Or maybe he was just high on murder. "Aren't you a funny fellow! Yes, my business here is finished, and I must take my leave."

Thank every deity he didn't believe in for that!

“Now, if you ever need me”, Alastor said, and walked over to the cassette player. He gently tapped the top of it with his fingers, his smile growing even wider. “I’m just a call away.”

Wait, what the ever loving actual fuck now?

Husk stared at him in disbelief. He looked at the cassette player, then at Alastor, then back at the cassette player. “What the fuck are you smoking? I know you’re raving mad, but that’s a fucking radio, a cassette player, not a telephone!”

And why did he think Husk would ever voluntarily contact him? The less they saw each other the better. The next time they saw each other would preferably be never, and even that would be too soon.

Alastor’s smile turned dangerous, and a red aura manifested around him. “And I’m the Radio Demon.”

And then he vanished into thin air, leaving behind an unsettling, heavy feeling and the bloody carnage.

Husk shivered. He definitely deserved a drink as soon as he was the fuck out of here.


	3. Taking the gamble

Everything was shit. Absolute, complete, motherfucking pure crap.

Husk was thrown out of the casino and he landed on a pile of trash in an ungraceful heap of limbs and ruffled feathers.

“Hah, serves you right, you stinking loser! Stay the fuck away from here or we’ll trash you up even worse!” his assailant shouted gleefully, and slammed the heavy door shut. Husk could hear laughter from behind it, fading away as the fuckers moved away from the door.

Mother of all whores in a shitwagon! Husk hated his afterlife more than he had hated the miserable last quarter of his actual life!

He had just lost all of his money. Every single penny, nickel, and cent. The the whole kit and caboodle. He was so broke that he wouldn’t be able to afford the cheapest fucking beer to make things marginally better, much less all the liquor he would actually need for that damn miracle.

And he was lying in a bloody pile of trash!

He hissed in the direction of the casino and picked himself off the curb, wincing at the pain it caused his now badly aching head. Wow, had he taken a sweet blow as he landed. All the fucking better.

He slowly stood up, and held his head with his left paw. He saw double, and the ground swayed. Just fucking peachy. How the hell was he supposed to get home like this? By crawling? Right, that surely wouldn’t invite everyone in the general vicinity of him to come kick his ass. And that was the best case scenario, honestly. But he couldn't stay here either.

He groaned, and put one foot in front of the other, sluggishly, painfully and with shaking legs. He got maybe two steps in before he almost keeled over from dizziness, and had to crash against the nearest wall for support.

Fucking great, now his arm hurt from the impact, too!

He swore loudly in several different languages, and banged his head against the wall in absolute frustration, beyond caring about the additional damage it might cause.

Except the wall didn't quite feel like a wall, or sound like it. It sounded like… glass?

He squinted at the surface he was leaning against and slowly realized that it was a thrift shop’s window instead of a regular wall. There was a display of a dingy chair, a small drawer with an old radio on top, a beat-down floor lamp, and an ugly rug. The window itself had been graffitied so badly that seeing through it would be challenging from any further away than he was.

If he had hit it any harder, he probably would have broken the fragile old glass and then had to deal with cut wounds on his head as well. Small mercies, he supposed, as he kept on leaning his forehead against the window in pain.

Idly, his eyes focused on the radio. Something about it was niggling at the back of his aching brain. Something that had been said to him a couple of months ago...

‘ _I’m just a call away._ ’

No fucking way. That was simply loony. And even if it somehow worked, there was no guarantee it would actually be a good thing. Not that it mattered, because there was no way it would work.

No fucking way.

...But he was kind of desperate.

Husk snarled to himself, mind made up, and punched his fist through the window. Now his paw hurt as well, and his furry knuckles were bleeding all over the ground and the glass.

He didn’t give a shit.

He painfully wrenched away shards of glass around the small hole he had made, slowly but surely making the opening big enough to be able to fit through. The sharp edges scraped at his skin, leaving behind tufts of grey fur and a bunch of red feathers, but he continued to not give a single shit.

He collapsed next to the stupid radio, panting from the exertion and seeing black and white spots in his vision. He gagged a bit, but managed to not throw up. He didn’t need that indignity if this actually worked.

He waited until his breathing was less ragged and he was less likely to pass out from moving too quickly, and laid his bloody paw on top of the unplugged radio.

“Alastor. Radio Demon. Red grinny asshole.”

He probably should have left that last one out, but he was beyond caring. And there was no fucking way this was going to work. Not in the first place, but especially not since the radio wasn’t on or even plugged.

“Yes, Husker, my ragged pally?”

Holy mother of God!

The Radio Demon was standing right next to the radio, which was now crackling a little. In all his red, glowing, grinning glory. He was holding his microphone stand loosely, and had an intrigued look in his eyes.

It had actually worked.

Holy fuck, it had actually worked!

“You don’t look so good”, Alastor said, and leaned in to take a very unnecessary closer look. “A head wound, huh? And a bloody paw. Fancy that.”

He leaned back and looked at his surroundings critically. “Now this is an unconventional place for calling me. I had hoped to arrive in your living room and have a glass of hooch between friends, if I’m perfectly honest.”

What the fuck?

Alastor turned back to him, now wearing a creepy grin. “Who did this? I assume you’re looking for some sweet revenge?”

Okay, hold the hell on! Was the Radio Demon, the actual fucking Radio Demon, offering to slaughter the people who hurt him, for him? Him, a bloody nobody whose only merit was having had met the Radio Demon twice before, and having miraculously survived both encounters?

There had to be a catch. But, to be quite honest, he didn’t feel like questioning it too hard right this moment. He was perfectly willing to sell his worthless and already damned soul to the Devil itself if it got him back home.

“The assholes at the casino”, he answered, and rubbed his face with his non-bloody paw. “But I don’t give a shit. I just want to go home and not get mutilated in a fucking alleyway.”

Alastor stared at him silently, grin never wavering and thoughts entirely unreadable. It was the creepiest fucking thing since… well, since the last time they met.

Suddenly the grin turned very friendly and cheery. “Home it is! Now, my friend, I need you to concentrate on whichever room you’d like to go so I can take you there. As powerful as I am, I find that it’s exceedingly difficult to go someplace if you don’t know where it is!”

The creepster appeared right by Husk’s side and wrapped an arm snuggly around his shoulders, like they had been the best of friends since childhood. “Are you picturing it?”

Well, fuck it. He was tired and already ripe to be tossed into a loony bin, so why the shit not? He closed his eyes and concentrated on his kitchen, since his first aid kit was there. Once he had the destination clearly in mind, he nodded.

“Onward!”

And just like fucking that, they were in his kitchen. In his actual bloody kitchen. There was his table and his two chairs, his booze-filled fridge, his stack of dirty dishes, and his first aid kit.

He was positive he was simply hallucinating or maybe he was passed out in a ditch and having some interesting drunken dreams.

“This is a decent cave you’ve got”, Alastor said, and dropped his hold of Husk, leaving him to crash down to the floor with a grunt. “Could use some cleaning, but you weren’t expecting visitors so that’s understandable.”

He was definitely going to wake up any moment now. In the meanwhile, he painstakingly got up by gripping the foot of his table and then using the tabletop as a support to stay standing. The room was spinning.

“I see you’ve got everything under control now, so I’ll go attend to the other business. Abyssinia!” Alastor said, waved at him, and vanished in a puff of red smoke and weird symbols.

Other business? Actually, no, Husk didn't care. He needed to disinfect and bandage his knuckles, and consider what could be done about his head. And he'd sit the hell down until the room stopped spinning. Not necessarily in that order.

He proceeded to collect his medical supplies, and right as he was sitting down to patch himself up, his radio in the living room turned itself on.

" _Good evening, despicable folks of Hell!_ " Alastor's voice sounded. " _This is Hell’s most popular host, Alastor! Tonight we're about to enter a charming local clip joint for some good ole fun and games. I've heard interesting things about this place, so I just couldn't resist popping in! Ah, do you hear that noise?_ "

There was a sound of frantic scuffle; screeching chairs, hurried footsteps, panicked babbling, chips spilling.

" _Why, some of the patrons think it prudent to leave right before passing a good time. Since it simply wouldn't do to have them miss out, I suppose I can skip ahead and get started with the music. Stay tuned!_ "

Alastor's voice wasn't heard after that; it was replaced by screaming, the sounds of something ripping, crashing, pleading, things hitting the floor, splashing and spurting, crunching, yelling, sobbing…

Cold shivers ran down Husk's spine, but he did his best to ignore the live-feed of currently happening carnage, and concentrated on bandaging his knuckles. This wasn't the first Radio Demon broadcast he had heard, and the last time he had actually been fucking present at the scene. At least he knew he didn't have to fear for his afterlife at this moment. Quite the opposite, actually: it really seemed like he had something of a protector, for some reason. Which wasn't disconcerting at all, fucking no sir.

Eventually, long after Husk was done patching himself up and was simply half-lying on the table, the sounds of slaughter ended and Alastor's voice was heard again.

" _That's it for tonight, folks! Thank you for listening. As always, my name is Alastor; have a good night and sweet dreams._ "

The radio turned itself off, just like the last time. Now, if this time followed the script…

"I'm back!" Alastor shouted as he appeared in the kitchen. "That was fun, I'm glad you invited me here tonight. Now, care to give me a tour of your house?"

Husk suddenly realized that now the Radio Demon knew where he lived and could pop in anytime. Fucking great. Excellent. Just what he needed.

"Can't even if I wanted to", Husk answered, but left out the part where he really didn't want to anyway. "The world is spinning a bit too much. Blows to the head do that to you."

Please leave.

"Hmm, I suppose that's an acceptable excuse", Alastor said, and looked around the kitchen in interest. "We'll save that for another time. We could, however, have that drink I had been hoping for. I don't suppose you have whiskey?"

Okay, maybe he could stay for a bit. Getting to the good stuff in this state would be hard, so a helping hand was much appreciated.

"No whiskey", Husk said, and pointed towards one of the cupboards. "I do have some vodka, Amaretto and cognac. Or beer in the fridge."

Alastor made a little noise of interest, and walked over to the cupboard. He pulled out the cognac bottle and made a couple of cognac glasses appear from out of nowhere. Husk didn't actually own any fancy glasses, so that may have been for the best. Alastor poured one measure for himself and, after a look at Husk's state, three measures for him.

Husk was starting to like him a little.

"Seeing the condition you're in, I'll keep my visit short", Alastor said as he set the glasses down in front of them. Husk grabbed his share greedily and took a big gulp, not bothering with manners or appreciating the fine beverage properly – he simply wanted to dull his pain. "I do, however, expect a proper invitation sometime soon. We have so much to discuss! You have gotten my attention, and I'd like to see if you're truly worthwhile."

Alastor took a proper sip of his cognac, giving Husk time to process the words said. Now that he was patched up and had had a first drink, he was much more aware of how weighty this situation actually might be. The Radio Demon was a known deal-maker, and he may have just accidentally agreed to one by summoning him. Or maybe he was receiving a speech on the subject right now. Shit.

A deal could, in the best case scenario, be more or less a benevolent one-off thing where both sides benefit by getting something from the other in exchange for something they can do in return. Just name your terms when the deal is struck, do your part, and receive your prize. Or it could be a case of long-term favour milking where the weaker fool got favours from the more powerful predator, and in the end usually had to sell their soul as a return favour when the predator came to collect their prize, because the debt had gotten too steep to be payable otherwise. Deal-makers like Alastor used the latter kind to get stronger, and agreeing to any kind of a deal with them had a chance of turning into a long-term one when they kept not asking for a return favour, while continuously offering little favours of their own to stack up the debt. All in all, sketchy fucking business that was better avoided.

"This rescue was a courtesy because you attempted to help me out the first time we met, but additional favours may cost you more", Alastor said, which more or less proved Husk right. But at least it seemed that he hadn't agreed to anything without his knowledge so far, which was a relief. "I only do free favours for close friends, or those I owe one to. Anyone else who wants something from me will have to make it a deal. Which one will you be, I wonder."

Husk was sweating cold sweat, and attempting to not show it. He took a fortifying drink, this time taking the time to do it the exact same way Alastor had done; both to buy some time and to stay in the Radio Demon's good graces. But there was only so long he could stall before he had to answer something. Fucking hell.

"No deals", he said gruffly, and braced himself for his next words. "I'll invite you over sometime. As soon as I get my shit back together. Can't promise you won't be bored to tears by me, but we'll have a chat anyway. If you still want to hang around afterwards, I suppose I can't stop you."

There, his fucking fate was sealed. He took a gamble and now he had to hope it'd turn out better than the one that got him into this situation in the first place earlier today.

Alastor grinned widely and laughed. "I knew you'd be an interesting one! Boring and foolish people take the perceived easy road and simply make a deal with me to get immediate benefit, but the truly interesting people go for the long haul. Yes, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

That made one of them. Husk simply hoped he wouldn't regret this too badly; chances were they would spend an eternity together here in Hell, and he'd really prefer it to not be a needlessly difficult one.

He tiredly raised his glass and extended it in Alastor's direction.

The Radio Demon clinked their glasses together with a wide grin.


	4. Walking on eggshells

Husk glared at his radio. It was sitting innocently on the glass top of its designated small, round table in the corner, like a regular old radio should. The problem was that today he planned to use it as a telephone, like a good little lunatic, to call a serial killer over.

Yes, the act would be exactly as crazy as it sounded. At least there was nobody around to judge him for it, and he didn't need to explain shit to anyone regardless. No, it was just him judging himself, and that was the fucking worst.

He didn't actually want to invite the Radio Demon over. He didn't want to invite anyone over, period. But he had made a promise in his moment of weakness the last time they met and one didn't make promises to homicidal maniacs and then break them. He was stuck in this situation whether he liked it or not.

He simply needed to get a grip and make the call, and then move on.

But he really, really hated it.

Maybe Alastor would be too busy today to pick up at all, much less agree to see him? Maybe he would be that way for the rest of his afterlife?

Husk sighed, and dragged his claws over his face in resignation. Like hell he would be. Stalling and hoping for divine intervention or some shit wouldn't make this situation any easier, so he really should just get it the fuck over with already.

He finally shuffled over to the radio, laid a paw on top of it, and braced for the worst.

"Alastor. How'd you like a lunch at my place today?"

He waited in silence. Damn, this felt stupid. Would Alastor even hear the last part or was the radio thing linked to just his name or something? Would he reply via the device or simply show up in person? He really hoped it wouldn't be the lat-

" _I would love to! Should I bring anything?_ "

Husk jumped at the sudden voice, even though he had been more or less expecting it. Damn it.

Fucking hell, this was weird. At least with a telephone he knew how things worked; now he wasn't even sure if he should repeat Alastor's name before answering, and if he could remove his paw from the radio or not. As such, he decided to keep his paw where it was, just to be sure. He wouldn't repeatedly say Alastor's name like a fucking moron, though -- if Alastor didn't reply, then he would do it, but not before.

"Uh, no need. It's just a lunch, not a fancy dinner or a date."

Alastor laughed immediately after, and that cleared up one thing at least. The tone was hard to tell from the radio and without seeing his face, so Husk could only hope it was amusement and not mocking.

" _Sure thing! I'll see you around midday!_ "

That was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one. Was he supposed to reply something? Perhaps better safe than sorry.

"See you…"

He removed his paw from the radio and waited for a moment longer, just in case. Then he sighed in relief. At least that part was over with. He fucking hated phone calls and anything comparable. Though he supposed he might have to get used to them if Alastor decided to stick around after today.

With that cheerful fucking prospect in mind, he went into the kitchen and gave another sigh, this time in resignation. Now that Alastor had agreed to come, he had to actually get his lazy ass to work and make the planned food.

He regretted all of his life choices.

\-----

At exactly midday, Alastor appeared in Husk's kitchen. Thankfully he hadn't considered for even a moment that the guy might use the front door or be late, so he wasn't surprised.

Small mercies.

"Good noon, my furry friend", Alastor said cheerfully, and Husk found himself in the now familiar side-hug. Fuck, was he getting used to it?

Fuck him twice, was he supposed to eventually reciprocate?

Even if he was, today was not going to be that day.

"Hello to you, too", he muttered, and wriggled out of the grip. For once, Alastor let him do that. "Do you want to start with the food or with the tour?"

He hadn't forgotten the fact that Alastor wanted a tour of his house, so he may as well be the one to bring it up to get it over with.

Alastor looked back at him, his gaze having been wandering previously – as a side note, Husk had made sure to clean the house to avoid further criticism on the state of it. Alastor looked downright excited, as far as Husk could tell anyway. "Now that's the question, isn't it? I'm sure the tour will bring forth more for us to talk about, so perhaps we should eat first and get the previously unaddressed topics out of the way?"

That didn't sound ominous at all. Fuck.

"Fine with me", Husk answered, and gestured to the table that had already been set. He noted that Alastor took the same seat he had occupied the last time. A creature of habit? Had he already dubbed it his chair? Or was it out of consideration with the assumption that Husk preferred the other one? Ugh, he could speculate all day and not get anywhere, especially with just the two occasions to work with. For fuck's sake, did his nerves about having a visitor show? This particular visitor, no less.

Husk shook the pesky thoughts out of his head, and took the light chicken soup he had made off the stove and brought it to its designated spot at the table – next to the fresh bread he had bought from someone who could actually bake. Then he fetched the caprese salad, the butter, and the white wine from the fridge. He may not be a gourmet chef and usually didn't bother making himself anything fancy, but he had a few trusty recipes up his sleeve if he needed to impress someone, and he could follow written instructions when necessary. He had been a lifelong bachelor, after all, so with no wife to make him dinner, he had had to learn to do it himself. It was all fine and well as long as the end result didn't require baking of any kind; especially nowadays with his fur and long claws. This was fine. Nothing to worry about.

He poured them both a glass of wine – he had bought actual wine glasses just to avoid potential judging from Alastor – and finally sat down.

"I must say I'm impressed", Alastor said while buttering a slice of bread. "It's not often that I have the pleasure of enjoying someone else's cooking, much less a proper looking meal. I do appreciate fine food. My apologies for having initially pegged you as someone who doesn't cook."

Husk felt half flattered and half insulted, but he supposed he couldn't blame Alastor for looking at a drunkard like him and labeling him as a shitty cook. He would label himself a shitty cook from looks alone.

"You should probably try it before you make up your mind about it", he grumbled, trying to mask his brief feeling of flattery as indignation and indifference. He ladled himself a good serving of the soup and piled some delicious mozzarella and tomatoes on his bread plate while keeping an anxious eye on Alastor's reaction to the soup.

Fuck damn it, it had been literal decades since the last time he had felt this self-conscious about the food he made. He hadn't actually had anyone over for a meal ever since he landed in hell, and it had been years before his death as well.

Alastor tried the soup, looked thoughtful, and then gave it another taste. Finally he nodded with a beaming grin. "Yes, this is perfectly acceptable. Could use more spices, but that's likely just my personal taste."

Husk slowly let out the breath he had been holding. "Thanks, I guess."

They ate amicably as Alastor talked about politics and cooking, and asked a few questions about Husk. He got to clear up the fact that he was, in fact, a stage magician and not a clown or a stand-up comedian. And no, he didn't usually do that for a living; he won money at casinos, bought a lot of long-lasting foods with his winnings, and then probably lost most of the rest of his money the next day and had to make do with the fucking macaroni and canned meat he had previously bought until he could scrape together more money for groceries and booze. He had his own fully paid for house – thanks to one spectacular winning streak a few years back – so at least he never had to worry about rent and shit.

Alastor seemed honestly impressed with the fact that Husk actually owned the house, which was unsurprising; ten years was a short time to gather enough money for a house, especially when you're not even working full time. That, and the vast majority of demons actually lived on the streets and trash cans due to the overpopulation and rampart poverty. Alastor himself was so powerful that he didn't need a job; he had made his own house and furniture mostly with magic, and he could pick up money from the demons he slaughtered if he felt like he needed it. That, and he had a bunch of fools who had made deals with him and were voodoo contract-bound to do his bidding if he needed something that was trickier to obtain.

Husk was so damn glad he had dodged that bullet. He made a note to keep it that way, no matter how desperate he felt or how close he got to Alastor. He doubted there was a discount for friends stupid enough to go for a deal all of a sudden. In fact, he had the feeling Alastor would consider that a betrayal and purposefully make the deal worse. Or perhaps he would just cast the fool out of his life to fend for themselves at their lowest point. A deserved fate, surely.

After the meal, he gave Alastor the grand tour of the house. He had a comfortable and decently furnished living room that also included a trapdoor into a relatively cool cellar. A decent sized bedroom that pretty much only had a bed and a nightstand in it to make drunken stumbling into it easier, and a walk-in closet that also had next to nothing in it since he didn't exactly need a full wardrobe of clothes in his furry state. Also connected to the bedroom was a decent bathroom with a bathtub he never used for actual bathing – he had made the mistake of using the tub only once before he realized that a completely soaked fur stayed wet for hours. Simply using dry shampoo and brushing his fur was a much better idea. A quick shower if necessary. A bath? Never.

Alastor wasn't much interested in his bedroom or bathroom, but he spent a while examining his books and records, and insisted on seeing a few card tricks. All in all, it was surprisingly not too bad. Not that he exactly wanted to do this again, but at least he now knew that it wouldn't kill him. Probably anyway; the Radio Demon was still around, after all.

"Well, this was truly a pleasure", Alastor said with what Husk now mentally labeled as his usual neutral grin. "But I must take my leave now."

Finally! Good riddance. Husk could really use some breathing space and a drink. Maybe he would drop by – read: spend the next two days at – the casino later to put the leftover money from his grocery shopping to good use and to unwind. He deserved and needed it after this damn charade. He was exhausted from entertaining a highly unpredictable guest for hours.

"Bye, then", he muttered, and made an attempt to walk his visitor to the door. But Alastor had other plans: he disappeared from his spot and then reappeared in Husk's personal space to give him a side-hug and a firm squeeze.

Fuck damn it!

"Oh, you dingy grump!" Alastor said with way too much cheer. "What kind of a farewell is that supposed to be? Hahaha! Ah, you really are so very soft. We should spend some time cuddling the next time!"

Okay, that was fucking it. He had played nice this entire visit and he was at his motherfucking limit.

"I'm not your fucking plush toy, you grinny son of a bitch!" Husk yelled, no longer giving a rat's ass about this person being the Radio Demon. He tried to wiggle out of the very insistent embrace, but didn't get anywhere with it. "Let go of me before I skewer your skinny ass and turn you into a warning sign for anyone trying to approach my house!"

Alastor had the fucking gall to burst into delighted laughter and nuzzle his cheek, but then he thankfully let go of him. "That's the spirit! I don't want my friends walking on eggshells around me for the fear of getting hurt. No, I don't get off the track unless you give me a real reason to. Please feel free to not put up a front for me, my dear."

Okay, Husk could see a point there. He would give the asshole that much. But he was still not going to stop snarling at the handsy bastard anytime soon. He smoothed down his ruffled fur irritably, tail lashing back and forth. "Fuck you."

Alastor laughed again. "No, thank you; I don't do that. I do hope to get that cuddle one day, however. Abyssinia!"

And the motherfucker disappeared before Husk could sputter more profanities at his suggestion.

For fuck's sake, he regretted throwing that fucking dart!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this [effing cool piece of fanart](https://ametan.tumblr.com/post/190748276577) this fic has received! It's not for any chapter specifically, but I thought it fit this one the best so I put it here<3


	5. The beginning of understanding

It took a few weeks before Husk heard from Alastor again. He didn't fool himself for a second into believing that they were done, but he did appreciate the thinking time. And think he did.

It was still difficult to grasp that the Radio Demon was honestly committed to being friends with a random nobody like him. But he had made it abundantly clear that he was, and that there were no strings attached. No bodily harm was threatened; Alastor even went out of his way to reassure him of his safety. No sneaky deals were made without his consent; Alastor's attitude heavily implied that he wouldn't even suggest one at this point, and Husk would have to go out of his way to request one if he felt like being the biggest fool in Hell. No offers to help Husk rise in social standing or some shit were implied; Alastor simply seemed to want a friend, not a business partner or a henchman. Husk hadn't made any moves to lick the Radio Demon's boot either – at least not any more than what he had initially felt was necessary to ensure his safety – and Alastor had dispelled any notions of the necessity of that at the end of the last visit. So, what was left really did seem like a genuine attempt at a friendship.

It was fucking baffling.

Why him, out of all the people in Hell? Because of the dart? Did Alastor think that had been altruism or something? Would he have befriended anyone who did that or was there something of additional interest in Husk in particular?

...Yeah, about "additional interest". Alastor was damn touch-happy with him. Was he that way with everyone he deemed a friend? Did he even have other friends? Was he… interested in Husk? He did seem to enjoy his fur way more than was necessary or appropriate. What the fuck was that suggestion of cuddling? Did cuddling actually mean cuddling or was he expecting something more? Fuck, was that lunch an open invitation to consider the two of them to be dating, even though Husk had specifically said it wasn't a date?

Now, Husk was certainly more interested in men than he was in women. And he would be a dirty liar if he called Alastor anything other than damn handsome; that dapper suit paired with the way he held himself with such confident charisma and that fluffy red hair were a fucking sight for sore eyes. But Husk was not open to the idea of dating the guy. He didn't want to date anyone. He had had enough heartbreaks and ridicule during his life; he wasn't planning on having anything to do with that shit in his afterlife. He was done with love, dating, potentially hazardous one-night stands, and all that. He was barely tolerant of the idea of friendship, for fuck's sake.

He really hoped Alastor wasn't expecting any of that bullshit from him. He would have to draw the line there. Although… Something about Alastor was a bit off on that regard.

" _No, thank you; I don't do that._ "

Who the hell replies like that when someone tells them 'fuck you'? And that was actually the second implication to that note. Now, Husk no longer remembered the exact words, but during their very first meeting he had felt threatened by Alastor's handsiness, and Alastor's response to his half-expressed fear had been something along the lines of him never having to worry about that particular thing with Alastor. Now, it could simply mean that he wasn't that particular brand of evil, but given that second remark where no such context was present...

What, was Alastor a celibate? Or an eunuch? Maybe that was jumping to conclusions; perhaps he was simply not into men. Though, again, he was awfully handsy towards a man, so that was weird. Maybe he was secretly married and wouldn't cheat on his… spouse. Although being that fucking touchy-feely and suggesting cuddling to Husk damn well counted as cheating, even if it wasn't the sexual kind.

What a fucking mess. He would probably have to ask Alastor if he wanted actual answers, and that was not fucking happening. He would simply have to be observant and see if he could gather more clues. Or, if he was unlucky, Alastor would bring it up himself by propositioning to him if he was actually interested like that.

Husk was really hoping it wouldn't come to that. He didn't want to deal with the awkwardness of turning someone down, even though it just might make Alastor leave him alone and focus his boundless energy on someone or something else instead if getting to Husk's bed was his secret goal here. That would be a relief. ...For the most part. Not that Husk was willing to admit to feeling maybe just a little bit attached already, fucking no sir.

So, weeks of passive thinking time had not really gotten him anywhere, but at least it had been a much needed breathing space so he could settle his thoughts and more or less accept his fate. Said fate being that he wouldn't be getting rid of the Radio Demon unless said demon decided to leave, and Husk would just have to roll with it and try to adapt.

Maybe this was his delayed punishment that came with ending up in Hell.

\-----

It was another regular day in Husk's life. He was at home, drinking vodka and reading one of his tattered books while he waited for the alcohol to get him nice and buzzed and ready to head out to a bar. It was, after all, cheaper to get started at home than it was to buy everything from a bartender.

His plans went down the drain when his radio turned itself on.

" _Husker, are you home?_ "

For fuck's sake. He slapped his book face down on the coffee table and tossed back the rest of the vodka in his glass.

"Wrong number, asshole", he said in the radio's direction, but got up anyway. He still didn't know if physical contact with the radio was necessary or not, so he kept on assuming it was. He slammed a paw on top of the device. "Yes, I'm home. What do you want?"

" _Swell! You'll see soon!_ "

What the fuck?

Suddenly, Husk found himself not at his home. At first all he saw were a bunch of red and creepy weirdass markings in the air all around him, and when they dissipated he found himself in a corner of a very crowded and noisy room. There was loud music in the air – a live band, actually – and it was fucking hot even by Hell's standards, making it quite frankly a horrible place to be without a warning. His ears turned back and wings flared in alarm and confusion.

"What the hell?" he asked out loud, his voice disappearing into the hubbub around him.

"Glad you could make it!" Alastor's tinny voice yelled at him, and he was pulled into the traditional side-hug his overly touch-happy acquaintance liked.

He growled at Alastor and pulled away. "What the fuck is going on? Did you just fucking magic me here all of a sudden? I didn't agree to any of this!"

Alastor laughed, looking way too pleased with himself. "If you were simply at home, I'm sure you weren't doing anything of importance! My friend, I was taking a stroll around the city and happened to hear music here. Upon investigation I discovered this lovely little wingding and I just couldn't resist sharing the pleasure with you!"

Husk slapped a palm against his own face in sheer frustration. Alright, so Alastor's heart was in the right place, he supposed. But his execution left a lot to be desired.

"For fuck's sake", he muttered, and sighed in resignation. What the hell ever. At least he was maybe drunk enough for this, or hopefully would be soon. He looked around to see where the bar was – as there was no way this wasn't a drinking hole – but to his dismay he couldn't see anything like one from his shitty vantage point. He turned to look at Alastor, who was staring intently in the direction of the band, holding his microphone high out on one hand. Was he broadcasting this?

Husk decided to leave him be and went to find the bar himself. He eschewed passing through the thick crowd, knowing it was there for the band and not the bar, and instead followed the wall to a promising doorway. The air was a lot lighter in the next room, and thankfully this was indeed where one went to get oneself some fucking drinks. He deposited himself on a stool and ordered a drink. And then another. And another.

After he was finally sloshed enough to begin enjoying the music, he remembered he had left Alastor alone in the other room. Should he care? Alastor could certainly take care of himself; he was the Radio Demon. And he was also the asshole who forced Husk here in the first place, so he wasn't fucking obligated to keep him company. And he was busy broadcasting anyway. Hmm, and… and he could find Husk if he wanted to with his creepy voodoo shit.

But maybe he was thirsty?

Husk drunkenly thought about that concept for a moment, and then decided that if he was still thirsty after drinking a lot already, then Alastor must be parched out there in the hot room. Mind made up, he ordered two martinis and wandered back into the concert room.

He followed the wall to where he was pretty sure he had left Alastor at, and soon enough saw him. But he was no longer alone. Husk slowed his walk and then came to a stop at a small round table not too far from the pair, and set the drinks down so he could observe without tipping them over.

The person with Alastor was one of those real Hell-born demons. Quite likely a succubus, judging from the… curves and the body language. She was doing the whole "leaning on one leg so that her hip juts out to the side as much as inhumanly possible" thing women did when they were blatantly flirting, and she was leaning into Alastor's personal space, despite the fact that Alastor seemed to be inching away.

Husk squinted. Yes, Alastor was definitely moving away every time the succubus leaned closer, and his grin looked very forced. His lips moved, but Husk was too far away and the room was way too noisy anyway for him to hear what Alastor was saying. But from the looks of it, it probably boiled down to 'No, thanks. Please leave'.

Alastor really had to be an eunuch or something if he was able to resist a succubus with that little effort – even looking like he was disgusted.

The succubus, however, was definitely not taking the hint.

This could turn into a massacre soon if she didn't back the hell off. Great, just what Husk needed.

Or he could…

Well, he was drunk enough to consider this a good idea.

He took the toothpick pierced olive from his martini and stuck one of the pick ends between his teeth, and then he walked over to the pair.

"Hey, toots!" he yelled with gritted teeth, and slapped her ass hard. She jumped, and turned around to glare at him with quite possibly literal fire in her eyes. If she thought that'd scare him… Hah, he had seen worse.

He grinned and sidestepped her to be at Alastor's side, and then he draped an arm and a wing around his shoulders. Alastor twitched, and stiffened, but ultimately stayed where he was.

"Why don't you scram and go suck someone else's dick", Husk said, and spat the olive in her face. "Pretty sure this one ain't into that."

Okay, now she looked more than mad enough to kill him. That olive had probably been a bad move.

Shit.

She made a move to… well, she made a move, but was stopped by Alastor's microphone suddenly pointing directly at her face.

"You should breeze", Alastor said, and holy shit on a stick, he sounded way creepier than usual. Husk didn't turn to look, but he saw red symbols from the corner of his eye and nope, he was so not going to look.

The succubus was looking, and she turned pale. And then she left. Hurriedly.

Okay, why the fuck hadn't Alastor done that in the first fucking place?

He was probably too polite and proper or something. He did have that gentleman shtick whenever he wasn't deliberately being an inconsiderate asshole.

"Yeah, you better run!" Husk shouted after the succubus, and then guided Alastor to their new table with their thankfully untouched drinks – everyone in the room was too busy with the band or with each other to care about the tables in the back.

"Here, I thought you'd be thirsty", he said, and slid the glass that still had the olive over to Alastor. Then he remembered to let go of the guy, and promptly took a few steps to the side to create a bit of a distance between them.

Fuck damn it, Husk had practically just side-hugged Alastor! Was that fucking habit contagious?

Alastor unnecessarily straightened his coat and rolled his shoulders, looking infinitely more comfortable again. His smile seemed actually genuine for once.

"Thank you", Alastor said, and picked up the glass. He removed the olive from the drink and looked at it for a long moment. He then tossed the fruit over his shoulder with a chuckle, letting or roll off wherever without a care.

He probably thought back to the look on that succubus' face when Husk spat the olive at her. Which, on the hindsight, was really quite...

Husk snorted.

Alastor looked at him, and his smile widened. A laugh track sounded from out of nowhere.

Husk fucking lost it at that. He leaned against the table with his elbows and propped his head against one of his palms and proceeded to laugh his lungs out. Alastor's laughter mixed with his, and soon he was unable to hear any of the music over their own racket.

He had no idea how long they simply laughed together at the ridiculous situation, but it was glorious.

"You know, Husker", Alastor said when their laughter finally subsided and they had gotten some air in their lungs. "This is the first time I've heard you laugh. You should really do it more often."

Husk snorted, and sipped at his martini. "I laugh plenty enough. It's your company that prevents it. Just fuck you."

Alastor didn't miss a single beat. "I really ain't into that."

Husk couldn't even remember the last time he had laughed as hard as he did at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the [funny and precious fanart](https://digit4ldevil.tumblr.com/post/190760546395/this-is-my-3-minute-0-effort-drawing-of-a-scene) this chapter has gotten!<3


	6. A friend in need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to French people on Husk's behalf.

Husk was so damn hungry.

He checked his canned and other dry foods cabinet for something, anything to eat today, and was coming up alarmingly empty handed. Not that it came as a surprise – he had been depleting his food supply for a couple of weeks now because of having had rotten luck at the casino recently and having lost more money than he made. He had eaten the last of his plain rice last night, so now there really was nothing left.

He was broke, and also out of food. That was worse than his usual bad monetary situations, where at least his resources lasted him through the rough patch. Not this time, though. Had he forgotten to stock up after the last time? He must have. Fucking bullshit.

Fuck damn it, what was he supposed to do now? Pawn something? He had already pawned a few unnecessary items in order to get more gambling money, which he had proceeded to immediately lose instead of multiplying it like he had planned.

Maybe his neighbour would loan him some money? Wait, had he paid him back for the last time? Shit, he wasn't sure. The more he thought about it, the surer he was that he already owed the guy. Damn.

He could consider looking for a quick job that paid immediately, if it wasn't for the fact that the kinds of jobs you could find on such a short notice were… seedy. Usually potentially deadly. Or they involved getting fucked in an alley. No. He should have gone for this option sometime in the last few days if he had been going to; now it was too late to find any job that he could stomach.

Should he attempt to mug someone? Maybe. He didn't want to, but it would be his final option if he couldn't come up with anything better.

He could rob a store or shoplift. Except he was a very distinctive looking demon, what with being a fucking winged cat. Being a regular ass imp would be very helpful right about now, but he was not a regular ass imp, so this option was out.

He found a dry piece of macaroni from one of the corners of his food cabinet and crunched on it while he thought.

He could ask Alastor for… No. He was not going to ask Alastor for charity or loan money off of him. It was a terrible idea to owe the Radio Demon anything, no matter how chummy the guy was towards him. He was pretty sure Alastor would loan him money if he asked. There was even a chance that it might work like it did with any other person, with him simply paying him back when he had some money. But there was also the very real possibility that it would fall into the category of “favours owed” and come bite him in the ass later, because that's how things worked with the Radio Demon; everyone knew that. So no, he wasn't going to risk it if he could help it.

He could dig at trash cans for food and look for loose change on the side while he considered the option of mugging someone.

...He hated the idea, but out of all the other options it was the only viable one. Especially since food had to be the first priority.

Motherfucking fantastic.

He slammed the empty cabinet shut and headed out, hating his afterlife.

\-----

It took way too long for his taste to reach the shopping area, where he headed for the alley next to the grocery store. He knew there was no chance in hell he'd be the only one there, but it was the best place to find borderline edible food. Well, restaurant trash was the better option, as the food was fresher, but the nearest restaurant was a lot further away than the grocery store, so he'd make do.

The trash cans were packed. With other demons, that is. Clearly he wasn't the only hungry soul today.

Peachy.

He weighed his options. The big trash can most likely had the best selection, but that's exactly why it had the most numerous and the meanest competition actively going on; the demons there were fighting tooth and nail over a package of stale bread right that moment. Were he to stick his head there, he would have to fight for any piece of moldy fucking vegetable he might dig out. Mind, he had very sharp claws and teeth, and his wings gave him a very solid advantage, so he could manage if he had to. He just hated the concept itself, and the effort it would take.

The smaller trash cans only had one weak-looking demon each, but they didn't seem to be having any luck finding anything, so that would be pointless. Honestly, that was likely the reason they were left to their own devices.

This sucked fucking donkey balls.

He was attempting to gather the motivation to join the brawl on the big trash can when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Husker, what a surprise!" a familiar, tinny voice said.

Alastor. Great. Just the coincidence he needed.

Well, at least he didn't have his head in the trash can to accent his humiliation at being caught stooping this low.

"Alastor", he replied, ears laid back and voice low.

Some of the demons glanced at them, but went back to minding their own business almost immediately. If they recognized the Radio Demon, they didn't show it. Maybe they didn't; typically the demons who frequented the trash cans were freshly dead and thus wouldn't yet know of Hell's politics. That, and Alastor usually didn't bother demons on the streets unless they provoked him, so they might simply be feeling relatively safe even if they did recognize him.

"I must admit I'm finding your chosen form of entertainment rather dull myself", Alastor said with a judgmental tone of voice. "It's the same every day, and these crumbs’ desperation really lacks a certain quality that makes things interesting."

Husk would like to claim that he couldn't believe his fucking ears, but that would be a lie. He was, unfortunately, very well aware of Alastor's questionable taste in what counted as a good time.

"I'm not here for fun and games", he muttered, and on cue his stomach grumbled loudly. Fuck damn it.

Alastor's expression turned understanding, and then a creepy grin appeared. "I see! Though aren't these pathetic little demons rather on the scrawny side? I know a much better place."

Aaand it got worse.

"I'm not a cannibal!" Husk said quickly. "And no, you can't change my mind. Fucking congrats, though; now I'm definitely a lot less hungry."

Alastor looked at him with a puzzled expression. ...Huh, Husk was actually impressed with himself for being able to tell instantly. It had taken him a few outings to be able to read the nuances of Alastor's constant smiles to any extent beyond neutral, amused, and creepy.

The expression morphed into one of understanding. Again. Husk was reasonably wary.

"Oh, you dingy grump", Alastor said, and wrapped an arm around Husk's shoulders, squeezing him close. To be honest, Husk had almost felt like something had been missing up until that point. "You could have called me. Shake a leg, we have a lot to do!"

Alastor forcefully guided him inside the grocery store they had been standing next to, but Husk applied the brakes at the doors. "No! I don't need you to- to- to stock up my fridge or whatever the hell you're planning! I don't want to owe anyone any favours!"

Alastor smiled smugly at him and kept pushing him further in like he weighted fucking nothing and like his struggling wasn't but a mild inconvenience. "J'suis désolé, je ne parle pas anglais."

...Fucking what now?

"Like hell you don't speak English, you bastard!" Husk yelled. Now, he didn't speak frog, but he understood that particular phrase. It was a common one, after all, and slightly similar to Italian, which he did speak.

Alastor made a sound like someone switching between radio stations, and then he started emitting a jazz song like it wasn't creepy at all. He pushed Husk further into the shop and saddled him with the job of pushing a shopping cart.

At this point, Husk gave up and accepted his fate. It was abundantly clear that Alastor was not going to take no for an answer and would have his way no matter what. Husk could waste his pathetically small reserves of energy fighting the inevitable, or make his own life easier by rolling with it.

So roll with it he did.

Alastor hummed along to the song and seemed to barely restrain himself from dancing along as well; he did bounce as he walked, though. His mere presence scared away most of the other demons who were shopping, which at least was a relief.

He merrily tossed stuff into the cart Husk was pushing. In went onions, green onions, a garlic, a green pepper, a celery, a potted parsley, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, a whole chicken, some roast beef – accompanied with Alastor muttering something about cheating. Then he spent forever picking a sausage, another forever picking a piece of ham, inquired about the state of Husk's spice collection and deemed that unfit, too – what the fuck even was a bay leaf? – and so on, until the cart was full and expensive looking.

On one hand, Husk still didn't want to owe Alastor. On the other hand, thank every fucking deity there was that he didn't have to be the one to pay for all of this! And he was even hungrier now that food was clearly on its way.

Yeah, he was quite done complaining about any of this.

Alastor paid for the food, grabbed a hold of Husk, and made the two of them and their groceries appear in Husk's kitchen.

"Now let's get started!" Alastor said cheerfully, and was suddenly wearing a red apron that said ‘Grabbers off the cook’. His coat went missing and so did his gloves, and had the long sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. Husk found himself in a playing card themed apron, and felt slightly violated for a moment, until he decided to not give a shit; this was Alastor, after all. "Dice four garlic cloves, then chop the onions, the celery and the pepper."

Alastor washed his hands at the sink, summoned a thick, large pot that Husk definitely didn't own, and got started with a sauce of some kind. He also summoned another, a lot smaller pan and got some sort of a gravy going there.

Husk decided to ignore whatever Alastor was doing and simply did as asked. He wanted the damn food, no matter what it was.

It took a while for him to notice, due to him having to cut or slice a whole lot of things, but Alastor was apparently making two different dishes. One in the large pot, and then the gravy that had something to do with the roast beef that hadn't been thrown into the pot.

"There, now that can simmer on its own for a couple of hours", Alastor said, and closed the lid on the large pot.

A couple of hours? All that work, and there were still a couple of hours to go? That's it, there damn well better be another dish that could be eaten right the fuck now, or Husk's thankfulness would be reduced to a whole lot of nothing.

Alastor summoned a pair of red oven mitts and pulled a couple of loaves of bread out of the oven. Store-bought and simply toasted in the oven, thankfully; it would have taken another bout of fucking forever if Alastor had decided to actually bake those from a scratch as well.

"Get ready to eat, old pally, as this won't take long at all", Alastor said cheerfully, and started to assemble what looked to be two sub sandwiches.

Husk didn't need to be told twice. He was sitting at the set table with a bottle of beer in no time at all, attempting to not salivate all over said table.

Alastor set a huge, delicious smelling piece of Heaven in front if him, and he probably did drool all over himself now. The roast beef was dripping thick gravy all over the plate, and was topped with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and mayonnaise.

"A dressed roast beef Po' boy", Alastor said with an unbearably smug grin, and a little bow. "Bon appétit!"

Husk had just enough manners to wait until Alastor sat down, but he was hungry enough to start devouring his weirdly named, yet simply divine tasting sandwich immediately after that with a hasty thank you. If Alastor minded, he didn't show it.

The sandwich was large enough that Husk had to put in a bit of work to be able to finish it, but he did manage. And holy shit how satisfying it was to have a stomach full of real food after days of eating whatever tasteless random bullshit he'd had available until he ran out of even that.

Alastor cleared his throat a moment after Husk was done eating. Husk looked at him, and idly noted that he had eaten his entire sandwich as well, but without any of the mess Husk had made with the gravy.

"Just so you're aware, Husk", Alastor said, looking as serious as a person with a permanent grin was able to. "You can ask me for help if you're in a jam. You can ask favors of me. There will only be consequences if I outright say so, and you have the option to change your mind at that point."

There was a strange look in Alastor's eyes. Husk couldn't for the life of him read it.

"I'm actually right aware of the fact that I'm not easy to get along with. I have… an exhausting personality, as someone once put it. Yours seems to be the polar opposite, so it must be even harder for you than it was for her. I will not apologize for it, but I consider you putting up with my whacky behavior to be plenty enough payback for practically anything you'll have the guts to ask of me at this point."

Husk was speechless. That was way more personal and candid than he had ever expected from Alastor. Not that Alastor had ever bothered to beat around the bush with him, but this was... emotional, for the lack of a better word. Serious.

And who was this woman Alastor spoke of? His wife from when he was still alive? An ex during his afterlife? A friend? ...His mother?

“Al...”

“Now, I believe I must dust out”, Alastor said, suddenly back to his exuberant self. He stood up and took both of their dishes to the sink with an unnecessary flourish to his movements. “I'll drop by to check on the gumbo in an hour, and then we can have dinner about an hour after that. Abyssinia!”

Alastor was gone in a flash, leaving no time for any questioning. Perhaps it was for the best.

There was no heartfelt conversation at dinner when the time came, and Husk didn't pry about anything he felt might make things weird again. He simply enjoyed the odd but tasty food, and his odd but not too bad company.

He had leftover gumbo for a few days afterwards, giving him plenty of time to get his shit back together again.

He could keep on putting up with some whacky behavior, he supposed. And only half because of the perks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it will not actually come up in the story again: it was Mimzy who said it.
> 
> Look at this [excellent fanart for this fic](https://ametan.tumblr.com/post/190799961547)! It's not specifically for this chapter, just a general mood, but in my opinion it fits this one the best, so I'll put it here!<3


	7. Facing the facts

Husk was certain he had to be sick or something. Maybe he had caught the plague that was currently reaping through Hell and inconveniencing its damned denizens. That had to be it, because there was no other logical explanation for how he was feeling, as these feelings weren't normally within his emotional range.

He felt bored and lonely.

See? Sick. Or maybe loony. Or both.

He didn't do bored. If he didn't want to stay home and brainlessly watch the telly, listen to the radio, read one of his books, or practice his magic tricks, he went either to the casino or to the pub. Or both. Those options certainly kept him busy for a day or two, and then he'd see about choosing an activity again. If he wanted to break his routine, he went out for a walk to remind himself how good he had it compared to the truly pathetic demons living in the trash cans. So this feeling of not wanting any of those options was alien.

He did lonely even less. During his actual life, when his friends started dropping dead before him – usually because of alcohol related medical issues – he stopped making new ones and never felt regret for that choice. It saved him from having to feel even more shit like heartbreak and grief.

When he finally kicked the bucket himself, he never bothered to make friends in his afterlife; he was done with having to think of others and of people fussing over his bad life choices. And of feeling shit. Hah, especially since he had no way of finding and reuniting with his old friends, like all the stories about afterlife had led him to believe he would. He was supposed to die, land in whatever afterlife there was, and be greeted by his friends and family and whatnot. He supposed maybe that was a Heaven only thing.

He occasionally wondered if his friends were around but unrecognizable in their demon forms or if they went to Heaven instead. Perhaps they simply got annihilated in the yearly exterminations. He had no way of knowing, and after a few years he had given up on trying to find out.

As far as current friends went...

Sure, he had some tolerable recurring faces at the casinos. However, you could only be so good friends with the people who you met with solely so you could try to rip their money out of their pockets to line your own. That, and those people had a bad habit of literally throwing out anyone who lost everything, which had been Husk plenty of times. Fuck those guys.

His neighbour was… not a bad neighbour, but he didn't want to be chummy with him either. Sometimes the pesky bat-skeleton creature invited him over for dinner or for a poker night with his friends, and Husk generally went along simply for the free food and booze. But he wouldn't call the guy his friend and the invitations were purely one-sided. They had gotten sparser over the years anyway. He was good about lending Husk money when he needed it, though, as long as Husk remembered to pay him back. Not a bad neighbour.

And then there was Alastor. Which was complicated. He was still hesitant to put a label on that.

In short, Husk didn't have friends and he didn't want them. He didn't do socialization for the sake of it. Seeing people in public places was enough for him.

So why in the nine circles did he feel bored and lonely now?

And why, oh sweet mother of God why, did the loneliness immediately make him think of Alastor?

It was one thing to tolerate the guy when he invited himself over. Or when he hinted that Husk needed to do his part as well, which made him obligated to call Alastor within a few weeks for some friendly activity.

It was a completely different thing to actively… want his company. Which suspiciously enough appeared to be the case.

Fucking hell.

Husk went into his kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, hoping against all hope that it would make the feeling go away or at least distract him from it.

After ten minutes and an empty bottle, he still had the stupid yearning in his heart. He had the feeling that getting drunk would only intensify it, since that was a thing that happened sometimes. Hell, those times were the times he spent months on end absolutely shitfaced in an effort to make the pain stop. After all, usually the source of said pain was dead or even deader and he had no other option but to try and bury the stupid feelings.

If he was contradicting his earlier statement of these feelings not normally being within his emotional range, well, acknowledging or not acknowledging shit was his own goddamn business. He drank for a fucking reason.

He hated this feeling. Loathed it. Despised it beyond all else.

But the thing was...

...This time there was, actually, an option other than drinking for months. If he wanted to take it. Since the source of the problem, for the first time ever, was not dead. Or rather, not erased.

All that was keeping Husk from fixing this issue was his own damn stubbornness. His want to not let anyone in. His need to protect his heart from the pain that he perceived as inevitable, just like it had been with his friends that he never got to reunite with in his afterlife. It felt inevitable, despite the fact that Alastor was not likely to get erased unless he chose to be. Which wasn't bloody likely.

Considering how deep in he was already, did digging his own grave a little deeper really matter?

Would it make things better or simply worse?

He clutched his chest and cursed himself to the deepest pits of Hell.

Finally, he marched over to his radio and slammed his paw on it in a full grump.

"Alastor. Come here, you stupidass walking fire hydrant."

As a side note, Alastor had never even once commented on the way Husk addressed him, no matter how rude it was. This was despite the fact that Alastor highly valued good manners. Husk seemed to be an exception to a lot of rules, likely even some that he was unaware of being there in the first place.

Almost ten minutes passed with no sight of Alastor. Now, this wasn't the first time this had happened, since Alastor did have a life of his own and couldn't always "pick up" immediately. But as it was, Husk was a second away from throwing the radio out of his window when Alastor finally appeared.

"My apologies for the delay, but I was in the middle of something", Alastor said with a mild smile. He opened his mouth to say something more, but Husk interrupted him by grabbing a hold of his wrist and pulling him towards the front door. Alastor tensed at the contact and Husk could feel a dangerous aura behind him and crawling over his claws, but he didn't give a shit. Alastor had told him he wouldn't hurt him. And he wasn't in the mood to give a shit anyway, even if there were no such promises.

"Shut up and walk with me", he said, slammed the door open, and pulled Alastor out. He slammed the door shut with his tail, and continued dragging his friend down the street at a brisk pace.

A few minutes passed in silence, until Alastor decided to finally break it. "Do you mind unhanding me? I'm perfectly capable of walking along on my own."

Husk stopped walking and took a deep breath to calm the fuck down. He let go of Alastor's wrist, and saw the guy immediately pull his hand to his chest and rub the manhandled spot with the his other hand. Husk was pretty sure he hadn't actually squeezed that hard, but he supposed he had to have.

He started walking again, but this time at a normal pace. Alastor walked by his side silently, wearing a creepy grin he couldn't read for once. Not that he tried very hard to.

It took another few minutes before the ache in Husk's chest began to abate simply because of Alastor's presence and he started feeling guilty for his actions. Honestly guilty. That was rare.

"I'm sorry", he grumbled in Alastor's general direction. He could feel the other's eyes on him. "For grabbing you. For calling you on such a short notice and demanding your attention. For being an ass."

Alastor's hand landed on his shoulder, and they stopped walking again. Husk reluctantly looked up at him and saw a genuinely soft smile directed at him. That was a first.

Today just kept being a fucking acid trip, huh?

"Apology accepted", Alastor said, and patted his shoulder. "Is something the matter?"

Now how the hell was he supposed to answer that one? Honestly? Make something up? Be vague? Did it fucking matter?

"It's really fucking stupid", he muttered, hoping Alastor would leave it at that.

Of course he didn't.

"I would still like the low down", he said, and his smile started getting creepy. "Do I need to hurt someone?"

Right. Alastor could be very protective, and would absolutely enjoy the task of hurting someone for any excuse. If Husk had the inclination he could get someone he hated into deep shit by blaming them for his mood. It would be very easy and get Alastor off his case.

It would also make Alastor leave.

That was unacceptable.

"No", he answered, and started walking again. His feet were taking to him to what could generously be called a park – it was basically a dumpster with some dead trees and lots of druggards, but it also had a few public benches that were perfect for wallowing in self-loathing and misery after losing horribly at money games.

He took a seat on one of them, and Alastor joined him.

It was truly pathetic how happy his shriveled heart was about the closeness of his company. It was like Alastor was applying a cooling balm over a fresh burn.

He hated it.

He needed it.

"I was fucking lonely, okay?" he grunted, eyes on the ground and ears turned back. His tail was swishing on the ground, sending dust and dead leaves into the air. "I was going spare in my stupid house, but nothing I usually do felt right. I couldn't concentrate on anything other than needing to see you, since you're my only fucking friend. I suppose I could have drank myself into a stupor but-"

Husk was pulled into a side-hug that actually felt considerably tighter than normal, and Alastor started gently petting one of his ears with his free hand.

If Husk didn't need this so damn badly, he would have sworn a blue streak and gotten the hell out of there. His ears were not a fair game to touch.

But he needed this so, so very badly.

So instead of throwing a hissy fit, he immediately leaned against Alastor and closed his eyes, soaking the affection in like an attention-starved kitten.

The petting was soothing.

"I fucking hate your guts", he muttered, and heard a low chuckle.

"Of course, my friend."

\-----

Husk didn't know when he had fallen asleep on Alastor – the last thing he remembered was Alastor saying something about finally getting his cuddles – but he woke up on an unfamiliar couch with a red quilt on top of him, and with the scent of seafood in his nose. His stomach grumbled in appreciation of the delicious smell while his eyes took in his surroundings.

He was in a living room. Everything looked really… dated. The furniture was mostly heavy looking and wooden, in deep browns, golds, and reds. The whole setup reminded him of his own youth, so he would place the decor style to somewhere around 20's or 30's, which matched with Alastor's slang perfectly. There was an entire wall consisting of a bookshelf stuffed with worn books, and of course an old radio was present, as well as a gramophone. No television, though. There were a lot of deer themed motifs and objects all over the place; some of living deer, some skeletons. That was unsurprising, considering that those tended to appear without any input on Alastor's part when he used a lot of magic in one place. Husk's bookshelf had a small porcelain deer on it, and he wasn't sure when it had appeared. He had let it be.

Husk sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually felt refreshed and pretty decent for a chance. It was weird.

Alastor popped in from out of nowhere. He was wearing a familiar red apron over a red dress shirt, and no gloves.

"Good to see you finally awake!" he said cheerfully, and motioned towards a doorway to the right. "I'm making étouffée. I hope you like crawfish."

Husk nodded dumbly, and the next moment had Alastor grabbing his wrist and pulling him up from the sofa and into the kitchen. He was pretty sure that was a purposeful reminder of his own actions earlier. He made a mental note to not drag Alastor around again.

"You can set the table while I finish this up", Alastor said, and a couple of cupboards sprung open on their own, presumably to guide Husk.

Chances were Alastor could simply wave his hand and the table would be set, but Husk complied anyway. It felt… very domestic. Somewhat familiar by now.

It felt like an actual home.

He hated it. Or so he told himself anyway to avoid acknowledging anything potentially mushy.

He sliced the freshly baked garlic bread after setting the table. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc appeared on the table, so he opened it and filled the wine glasses.

Soon the food was served. It was delicious and the spice combo tasted somewhat similar to the… what was it again… ah, gumbo, that Alastor made that one time. Husk was sure it pointed towards a specific region within the States, but he wasn't cuisine savvy enough to piece it together.

Alastor chattered away during the meal, and Husk contentedly let him do most of the talking. He had seconds of the tasty food without even thinking about it, and he swore Alastor's eyes and grin got even brighter than usual.

Husk didn't think he had felt this good even once during his entire stay in Hell. Not even when he had that epic winning streak at the casino and was able to buy himself a house with all that money. That was a close match, but there was some kind of a nuance difference there that set these two occasions apart.

Not that he was ever going to say any of this out loud.

He soaked in the warmth of Alastor's presence and filled his stomach with the food, and finally he felt like he was ready to leave for the solitude of his house. In fact, by now he was looking forward to the peace and quiet. As much as he apparently liked Alastor, he was still a loner at heart and could only take direct company for so long.

"Thanks", he said as he was putting his dishes in the sink. "For everything. I'll probably be a total asshole again the next time we see each other, so uh…"

Alastor laughed. "Husker, if that bothered me I wouldn't have stuck around for as long as I have. I think it's refreshing and entertaining. I’m simply glad you’re feeling better; my mother was a big believer in good food curing half of your problems! Don't you worry, everything's jake."

...Having befriended Alastor may have just been the best decision he had made in his afterlife. And damn it, Alastor was his friend and it was the time he fucking accepted that for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a side-story called ["Fine, be a part of my afterlife, jackass!"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228624) and it has two extra chapters that go between this chapter and the next one – as well as some others for later – if you're interested in additional content before continuing reading the main story. It's not at all necessary to read the side-story to enjoy this one. You can always opt to read this entire thing first and then go look at the additional stuff, too, if you wish. Do whatever you want, but know that there are options ;)


	8. Mushy feelings

A few years flew by and Husk's friendship with Alastor grew steadier now that he had accepted it and was more or less embracing it. He still made sure to grumble about Alastor being a thorn on his side almost every time they met, but he only meant it sometimes, when Alastor was actually being a fucking pain in the ass – which he was often enough, and he was fully aware of it, too. The bastard did it on purpose more often than not, so he had Husk's complaints coming and deserved every single one of them.

There were moments of real camaraderie mixed in as well.

For one, Alastor cooked for him all the damn time, whether Husk needed it or not, or even expected it. Alastor simply loved to cook and seemed to be over the moon with joy at having another person eating the food he made, which also enabled him to cook more often and larger quantities. By now Husk was so used to jambalaya, gumbo, dirty rice, and all things crawfish and shrimp that he felt like he had eaten them all his life. Alastor loved baking as well, so Husk now always had beignets or pecan cake or pecan pie or pecan cookies or pecan anything really in his food stash if he needed something sweet. Alastor didn't much care for sweets, so Husk had to eat more or less all of it whenever the guy had the sudden urge to bake. If Husk wasn't almost anorexic levels of skinny regardless of how little or much he ate, he would worry about getting fat with the way he was being fed nowadays.

Another food related thing Alastor was apparently incapable of controlling was his need to make crepes. He could show up at any time of the day, regardless of whether Husk was even home or fucking awake, just to randomly make a stack of crepes for him. Maybe it was because of the first time he made them: Husk hadn't had crepes since his death, and he had fucking loved them in his life, so he had said as much as he ate the whole damn batch Alastor made. He regretted it later when his stomach ached like crazy, but at the time it had been worth it. Alastor had been thrilled to bits as well, and ever since… well… crepes at random. Husk wasn't complaining.

In return, Husk made sure to radio call Alastor at least once a week, if only to chat a bit. He didn't necessarily have anything to say, what with his life being generally pretty boring and Alastor dropping by often anyway, but Alastor was always more than happy to ramble on and on about whatever was on his mind. It was like tuning in on a personal radio show that he could idly listen to while doing other things. As a side note, he did need to have his paw or tail on the radio if he wanted to reply, but he didn't need to stand by the thing the entire time; Alastor knew he was listening even if he wasn't constantly replying. He developed an embarrassing habit of nodding and humming and going "yeah" towards the radio even when Alastor couldn't hear him, though, but what the fuck ever.

Husk even bought himself a Walkman – which was close enough to a radio to work – that he sometimes took to the casino or the pub with him, just so he could call Alastor and have someone worthwhile to listen to while getting wasted or betting. Sometimes Alastor appeared there after a while and they spent some actual time out together.

It was very nice. Husk hated admitting it, but Alastor made his afterlife much better than the last quarter of his actual life had been.

Maybe that was why Husk found himself developing mushy feelings for the bastard.

It happened on the sly, little by little. He didn't even notice it because he was so used to Alastor by now. First he was even happier than usual to see Alastor. Then he started really looking forward to any planned outings and fussed over his appearance before going. Then he found himself feeling all warm and fuzzy when eating food made to him by Alastor. Then he began feeling oddly nervous when he radio called him and then giddy when Alastor answered. Then he started to enjoy the stupid side-hugs a little too much and felt bummed out when they ended.

It was when he found himself wanting to lean over the table to kiss the sauce stain off Alastor's smiling lips during a dinner that it finally fucking clicked.

He was falling for the Radio Demon.

Oh fuck, he had fucking romantic feelings towards Alastor.

His mind came to a screeching halt, and his fork dropped from his suddenly slack paw. It landed on his plate with a loud 'clink' and made sauce splat on his white chest fur.

It was the sound that brought him back from his internal fucking screaming. His eyes immediately focused on Alastor.

Alastor, who was staring at him curiously.

Shit.

Husk hastily collected what remained of his wits and put on a poor attempt at a poker face. He then corrected it into an even poorer attempt at an annoyed face while looking down at his stained fur.

"Husker, is somethi-"

"Fuck damn it!" Husk quickly said, purely to interrupt Alastor's question. He stood up, his chair screeching from the abrupt movement, and marched towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

He didn't even need to look to know that Alastor was suspicious, but that was a problem for later. Right now he needed to freak out in peace.

He entered the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and stared at his own panicked face in the mirror cabinet above the sink.

He had just wanted to kiss Alastor.

Fucking hell, he had just wanted to kiss Alastor.

Alastor.

Why was this happening to him?

Why now?

Why with Alastor, out of all the damned people in Hell?

And what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

He grabbed the sink with both paws and leaned heavily against it, fighting the urge to- to- hurl, or run, or scream, or something anyway. He couldn't do that. Not with Alastor still in his house.

Fuck. Shit. Damn it.

He never wanted to fall in- get a crush on anyone. Much less his be- only friend. Not again.

Why the fuck was it always his friends that he got dizzy for? He had never wanted to date strangers – although he hadn't minded fucking them back when he was alive – but getting those sentiments for his friends had been commonplace. That was one of the reasons he hadn't wanted to make new friends after the old ones died and took his heart with them. And the reason he never thought he'd love again. Which, mind you, he fucking didn't now either. It was still just a crush. He hoped.

Damn it, he should have seen this coming. He should have been more cautious. He should have never thrown that fucking dart.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

He needed a fucking drink.

But more importantly he needed to get a grip, and fast. Alastor was waiting for him, and he wouldn't be opposed to just magicking himself into the bathroom if Husk took too long. Potentially.

Time to apply reason. He was a fucking adult. An old man at that. This was not the first time this shit had happened to him. He could be rational about this.

So, he was carrying a torch for Alastor. He couldn't escape that fact now.

What should he do about it?

Should he tell him? Should he ask him for an actual date? If so, what were his hopes for the future and the chances of Alastor agreeing?

Husk didn't really know how their relationship would change, should they miraculously get together. Alastor was… complicated when it came to romantic couple things.

For one, he didn't do sex. At all. He seemed downright repulsed by it, even. Husk didn't really know how that was even possible; he had been a human after all and sex was something everyone did unless they were the weird kind of religious, which was very obviously not the case here. Maybe something had caused it, but Husk certainly didn't know what and Alastor had never brought it up. However, sex was definitely off the table and non-negotiable, so it didn't matter much why.

Another couples activity that seemed far-fetched was kissing. While Husk didn't actually have any real intel one way or another, he couldn't imagine Alastor kissing anyone. It was too… involved. He hated being touched by others, despite the fact that he was also the most touch-happy person Husk knew – although Husk himself was a weird exception to that rule, as his touch seemed to not only be tolerated, but enjoyed even. So Husk figured that the best case scenario would be something along the lines of forehead or cheek pecks initiated by Alastor. If that. That would suck.

If sex was out, and kissing was probably out, what was left? Pretty much just cuddling. At least Husk knew Alastor was into that, but it was something that was already an option between them. Husk didn't go for it often because he was too proud and it made him feel too many things – things that made a lot more sense now, damn it – but he allowed Alastor the occasional cuddle. Alastor would pet him sometimes, and they had pseudo-cuddled while watching a movie a couple of times when Husk had been damn drunk and Alastor hadn't minded Husk leaning against him. Like a cutesy fucking couple, to be honest. So, Husk didn't need to bare his heart to Alastor for a cuddling privilege. 

...Even though doing so would set the bar much lower for him to go for it, which would be nice.

Fuck damn it, there his mushy heart went again, getting all warm and wiggly at the thought of getting closer to Alastor!

He groaned and dragged a paw down his face. This was fucking ridiculous.

But seriously, was there anything else to be gained from confessing to Alastor and hypothetically being accepted? They cooked and ate dinners together already, and sometimes even dined in an actual restaurant. He didn't want to live together with Alastor, and was pretty sure the feeling would be mutual; they both needed their own space. Potentially they would sometimes spent the night together and sleep in each other's arms, he supposed, which would be really damn nice. But it wasn't a guarantee, since Alastor might not agree to being continually touched for such a long stretch of time.

Uh, what else did couples actually do? He sure as fuck wasn't gonna be holding hands. The longer he thought about it the less he could think of anything they didn't already do. They were actually domestic as hell when one stopped to consider it.

In short, the only things he might gain from the change in their relationship were the possibility of light face kisses, the remote possibility of sleepy cuddles, and the excuse for more general cuddling. So, not much, really. Definitely not worth making a fool of himself if Alastor didn't return his stupid feelings, or the risk of Alastor distancing himself from Husk because of the awkwardness. Just like one fucking Jonathan had done when he was alive. And Matthew. And the less he thought about Jeremy the better.

He didn't believe Alastor felt the same anyway. Alastor seemed blithely ignorant of all things romance, actually. He certainly didn't seem to think that anything the two of them did was in any way out of the ordinary between friends, which was probably the damn reason Husk hadn't noticed his own shifting feelings until they slapped him in the fucking face.

So. Alastor probably didn't feel the same. Husk didn't know how he would react if he were to confess to him. The worst case scenario was that he was as repulsed by the thought of Husk having feelings for him as he was about sex, and that would be really fucking bad. On the flipside, their relationship wouldn't really change much even if things went well.

This was not a gamble he was willing to take. He would much rather keep what he had, which was already so close to what he wanted, than risk losing any or all of it.

Mind made up, he ruthlessly squashed his feelings and vowed to never let them rise to the surface again.

He washed the sauce stain off his fur and returned to the kitchen.

And the feelings resurfaced the moment he saw Alastor's worried smile. Fuck damn it.

"You took a while", Alastor said, and his smile went back into the neutral category. He had finished his food while Husk had been gone. "That must have been a persistent stain."

Yeah, Alastor was onto him and was toying with him.

Asshole.

He wanted to kiss that smirk off his perpetually grinny face.

Fuck.

Alastor had to leave, stat.

"You wouldn't even believe it", Husk muttered, and walked over to his seat. He looked at his unfinished food, no longer feeling like eating it. He could feel Alastor's eyes on him. Fuck him twice.

Alastor hummed a vague affirmative, but said nothing. Husk knew this game. The bastard was going to wait for him to crack and fess up.

Not today.

Husk grabbed the plate and took it to the sink, taking a small measure of vindictive glee from Alastor's eyes narrowing at the wasted food. Actually, no – food cooked by him that Husk decided to not finish eating. That must have stung. He was probably wondering if something had been wrong with it, if he had made a mistake while preparing it, if he had served this particular dish to Husk before and whether he had eaten it all then.

If it kept him off Husk's case, all the better.

"Thanks for the grub", Husk said neutrally, and made a show of looking at the clock on the wall. "Sorry not sorry for kicking you out, but I have places to be."

He didn't. Or well, he could hit the pub and drown his stupid feelings in alcohol. That was something he was good at.

Alastor was suddenly in his personal space with a menacing grin. Husk flinched and his wings flared out.

"Hah! You slay me!" Alastor said, grin widening and eyes narrowing. "Where are you off to? I could drop you there."

Shit. Husk forcibly folded his wings and scowled.

"No need to, it's nearby", he answered, ears turning back quite against his will. He tried hard to focus on anything other than Alastor's close proximity. It was way harder now than it had been earlier today.

Alastor kept staring at him for a couple of distressing seconds longer, before his expression abruptly changed into his usual grin.

That never failed to be unnerving, no matter how long they had known each other by then.

"Alrighty then", Alastor said, and turned around to head for the door. Like he was going to use the fucking door – it was completely for the show, and they both knew it.

"I expect answers the next time", Alastor said jovially, and gave Husk a look over his shoulder. "Abyssinia."

He was gone in the blink of an eye.

Husk leaned against the sink and rubbed at his face with his right paw.

He needed a fucking drink. To hell with everything, he would start with the rum he had in his stash and work from there.

Fuck.


	9. Evasive maneuvers

It had been three weeks since Husk last saw or heard from Alastor. Not for the lack of Alastor trying, judging from the food that had appeared in the fridge and on the counter, which Husk had noticed on the couple of occasions he had stopped by his home.

No. Husk was very deliberately avoiding him by being home as little as possible – he only dropped by to grab more cash whenever he ran out, as he wasn't stupid enough to carry all of it on his person. And by not being at his usual haunts that Alastor knew about. And by not carrying his Walkman with him. And by giving any radios he could see in his drinking holes a wide berth.

Yes, he was constantly wasted now. That's how he dealt with the cases of lovesickness.

It would go away if he didn't have to see the root of it and if he drank enough to forget it. And when he finally forgot it, he could get back to Alastor and everything would go back to normal.

Or maybe not, but it was still the only way he knew how to deal with his problems. He had drank away the rejections he had faced for being a faggot and not keeping the info to himself. He had drank away the heartbreaks of his rare girlfriends leaving him because of his gambling addiction. He had drank away the trauma from the war. The deaths of his friends. The jobs he had lost. The ridicule he had faced for being a drunkard. The trauma of dying and waking up in Hell. The redoubled grief over not reuniting with his friends in death. The losses at the casino. The ridicule faced for being a drunkard again.

Bottom line was that he drank a lot. Just sometimes more than usual.

And right then? He was drunk as fuck.

Of course that was how Alastor finally found him. Mind, the chances of that were pretty high, all things considered; it's not like he had had many a sober moment during his binge.

"Husker, what a coincidence!" Alastor said, his staticky and high-pitched voice stirring Husk from the almost passed out state he had blissfully been in.

Husk lifted his head up from the bar counter and squinted at the glaring redness that was his friend, who now had a hand on his shoulder. It took him a moment to realize this was not a drunken dream or a figment of his imagination, like it had been a few times during his weeks of drinking. Alastor was actually there, giving him a sharp grin that he couldn't read in his state of utter inebriation.

Fuck damn it. He was not in the condition for this fucking conversation – he could barely string a whole sentence together, much less think his words over. At least that also meant he was too fucking gone to say anything stupid.

"Fuck off", he muttered, and tried to drop back into his previous position. He needed the sweet oblivion, and for Alastor to not be there.

Alastor wrapped an arm around his shoulders and prevented him from slipping away. His grin tightened considerably in the process.

"Oh, did I say a coincidence? Because I meant to say that you've been extraordinarily difficult to catch lately and this is the ninth gin mill I've been to today."

If Husk wasn't shitfaced, he might have felt flattered or something. As it was, he just grunted and tried to free himself from the grip to no avail. If anything, Alastor's hold tightened.

"Oh no, my pal. We're due a conversation and you're not getting a choice in the matter, I'm afraid."

The next second found them in Husk's home, and Husk was on his shaky feet instead of comfortably slumped over a table.

He threw up immediately.

The next few moments were a complete haze and he had no idea how long a time passed by without his notice, but eventually he realized that he was sitting on his bed and had a glass of water forced down his throat. He choked on it a little, but thirstily drank most of it anyway. He was pretty sure he threw up shortly after, and was then given more water, only slower that time.

He couldn't recall the rest of that night when he woke up in the morning. Or whatever time it was. He assumed he had passed out quickly after that little glimpse of a memory, as he usually didn't exactly manage to do much anything when he was that far gone.

All he knew was that he had one hell of a hangover, and he needed to throw up once again. He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and did just that.

There was a red bucket there that caught most of it.

He had definitely not put it there. He never had the foresight or even the coordination to do that. He wasn't sure what colour the bucket he owned was, but he was almost certain it wasn't red.

"I see you're finally awake", a tinny voice said, and made Husk regret waking up.

Alastor's shoes, pant legs, and the hem of his coat appeared in his vision. Husk closed his eyes and pulled himself back into the bed, rolling to his back and squishing a wing slightly painfully in the process. He didn't give a shit.

"No, I'm not", he croaked, and cursed the awful feeling in his throat, and the even fouler taste of alcohol, stomach acid and morning breath in his mouth.

The mattress shifted as a new weight was added on the edge of it, and then Husk was carefully maneuvered into a semi-seated position. A cool glass was pressed against his lips, and water was tipped down his sore throat.

It felt good. Kind of. It didn't help the headache, the stomach ache, the nausea, or the dizziness, but it did help his hurting throat and got the worst of the foul taste out of his mouth.

He was lowered back down.

"Now, there is a chin we failed to have last night", Alastor said. "I don't suppose you're in the condition to have it now?"

Fuck no. There was no condition where he would be having it, but he was especially ill-equipped to have it while he had a hangover. No conversation should be had when he was hung over. He was way too grouchy and lacked any and all impulse control. He said and did dumb shit when hung over.

He couldn't afford dumb shit on this particular topic.

"Fuck you", he answered, and draped an arm across his eyes to block the light from hurting them.

There was a beat of silence.

"You know how I feel about that", Alastor said, no humor in his voice. That was rare. "Since you're uncooperative and I want answers, I'll cut the chase. You have been avoiding me."

Husk huffed, and stayed quiet.

"I would like to know why."

Husk groaned. Fuck this bullshit.

"How'd you know I haven't just been a drunkard?" he challenged tiredly, hoping against all hope it would somehow work. He desperately needed an out.

Alastor laughed, except he didn't sound amused. "Bushwa! You wouldn't have been so hard to find if you had simply been on a toot. Try again."

Why did this asshole have to be so smart? Especially when Husk was feeling spectacularly brainless.

"None of your business", he said, and tried to half-heartedly shift the smarting wing out from underneath him. He wasn't successful.

"I believe it is my business to know why you're avoiding me, and drinking your liver out in the process no less. This obviously concerns me directly."

...Well he didn't have a smart answer to that. Not that any of his answers had been smart so far anyway, but at least he had had something to answer with. Fuck damn it.

"Husk."

He would just say the first thing that came to his mind to shut Alastor the hell up. That ought to do it.

"Why don't we make a fucking deal? You'll leave me the fuck alone about this and get whatever you usually demand in return."

He thrust the paw not attached to the arm over his eyes in Alastor's general direction.

Deep silence.

Complete, static-free silence.

Husk slowly realized what a stupid fucking stunt he was pulling and regretted it instantly. His stomach filled with dread.

He had suggested a fucking deal. He had dismissed Alastor's friendship, fucking discarded the genuinity of it, and had tried to make a deal with the Radio Demon.

See, dumb shit when he was hung over.

The mattress shifted again as the extra weight was lifted off.

Husk withdrew the offending paw and hurriedly lifted the arm from over his eyes to look at Alastor – bright lights be damned – with an apology on his lips.

Except Alastor was no longer there.

…

"Alastor?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat. "Al?"

No answer.

He scrambled up and fell off the bed, barely avoiding the gross bucket. He gagged for a moment from the sudden movement, but forcefully pushed the nausea aside. He crawled to the door that led to his living room.

"Alastor?"

Still nothing but silence.

He knew it was pointless, but he crawled to the kitchen doorway regardless, fighting off his rapidly growing panic.

Alastor was not in the kitchen either.

He had left.

Husk had made him leave.

Husk had avoided him in order to get over the feelings that might make him leave, so that they could still keep their friendship, but now he had driven him off anyway with his absolutely fucking moronic words and actions.

He forcefully calmed his too rapid breathing and turned around to face the living room again. He still had one option left.

He dragged himself over to the radio that was sitting innocently on the glass top of its designated small, round table in the corner, like it always did. He painstakingly stood up, almost tipping the table over by leaning too hard against it in his haste to get to the radio, and slapped a paw on top of it to use it as a telephone to call his best friend.

"Alastor."

He waited. And waited. He heard the seconds tick by on the clock in the kitchen. He counted five whole minutes. It may have been even longer because he lost the track of his numbers a few times.

"Alastor, answer me."

He kept on waiting. Nothing.

"Alastor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was really fucking dumb of me. I wasn't thinking. Come here and I'll explain everything. All of it. Please."

He waited for a really long time. And then some more. And a little bit longer, just in case.

Alastor didn't come.

Alastor didn't answer him.

That had never happened before.

Not even once.

Husk lifted his paw off the radio and crumpled down on the floor next to the little table. His vision was swimming and it wasn't because of dizziness.

Alastor had left him.

Would he ever come back? Had Husk violated their friendship badly enough that they were completely done?

This was the one fucking thing he wasn't supposed to do. Alastor had made it very damn clear that he drew the line between friends and fools with whether he made deals with them or not.

And Husk had just suggested a deal.

Tears trickled down his furry cheeks, unchecked.

If he was sober, less hung over, he could probably rationalize this situation better. After all, hadn't he just spent three weeks avoiding Alastor, but with every intention of speaking to him eventually? Alastor was justifiably angry, so he probably only needed some time to calm down.

But Husk wasn't exactly sober and he was fucking hung over. He had zero filter for his feelings of complete heartbreak, absolute belief in having been abandoned forever, and the oppressing feeling of everything being his own fault and that he had ruined the only good thing in his afterlife.

Alastor had left him and he was spiraling into flashes of faces that had once been close to his heart, but had left him because of his own fucking idiocy. Faces he'd never see again because everyone was dead or even deader and he could never have them back.

And now Alastor's smiling lips and bright red eyes and happy laughter were fading away, out of his reach, just like everyone else.

Husk screamed. He hyperventilated. His eyes leaked more tears than he had thought he had left after everything he had already been through in his miserable life. He kept on being a wailing mess on the floor until his tears finally ran dry, and then he fetched a bottle of tequila.

It was still the only way he knew how to deal with his problems.


	10. The once-a-year opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide

To give Husk some credit, he tried calling Alastor every single day for the first week. Just a line of "Alastor. I'm sorry. Please answer."

Alastor didn't answer him.

Afterwards, Husk got drunk. Really drunk. He couldn't remember the previous night the next day, and he tended to wake up in a ditch. He took to hiding a bottle of vodka in the ditch he usually ended up in so that he could pick himself up in the morning with its help. Then he went home and called Alastor, who didn't answer.

Rinse and repeat. There was nothing else he could do. He had been to Alastor's house, but he had no idea where it was actually located – Alastor had always magicked him in and out. He couldn't visit him and beg for forgiveness. He could only call him with the radio.

On the second week, he simply said Alastor's name and left it at that, figuring that it'd annoy Alastor less and better his chances.

Still no answer.

At the beginning of the third week there was a Radio Demon broadcast on the radio, and for a moment Husk thought it was Alastor calling him, despite the fact that he was in a pub at the time and Alastor never did personal calls via random radios – it was either his home radio or his Walkman that Alastor accessed when he wanted to call Husk specifically. But what could he say, Husk was desperate and very fucking drunk; simply hearing Alastor's voice from any damn radio was enough to make him hopeful.

He rushed over to the radio and tried replying to Alastor, who proceeded to ignore him and continued his show like nothing had happened. Well, there was a brief pause that seemed a little unnatural, but that was it. All it implied was that Alastor probably heard him, and deliberately chose to pretend not to.

Husk listened to the broadcast while crying his eyes out, feeling a bittersweet pain in his heart from hearing his best friend's voice but being unable to reach him.

He stopped calling Alastor after that.

And then, just as the fourth week was about to start, he learned that it was the extermination day.

The pub was practically empty, as most demons didn't want to risk their afterlives by being in public spaces. They'd much rather go to any trusted hidey-holes they had available and wait it out while the poor scum on the streets, the dumb newbies, the ones who someone stronger wanted gone, and the tired and suicidal souls got wiped out of existence.

Husk hadn't realized what day it would be when he left his home in the morning; he was way too depressed and drunk to pay attention to details like that. Only at the pub did the bartender clue him in with a snide comment about his stupidity of going out on this day. It was a little hypocritical of her, since she kept her pub open like it was a regular ass day.

Besides, to Husk's intoxicated and heartbroken mind this was an opportunity.

He had tried ending his life exactly two times when he had first landed in Hell and had learned how much it sucked to be here, but obviously the normal methods didn't work on someone who was already dead, and the attempts had just made everything worse. Then he learned about the extermination day, but only after the first one he had been around for had passed by without his notice – he had been pretty bummed about that at the time, as he would have seized the opportunity had he realized it was there. But then his afterlife started looking up to some extent as he adapted to his new existence, and the next time the opportunity to get erased arrived, he no longer wanted it. Afterwards he'd had his ups and downs, but the downs had never happened to coincide with the once-a-year opportunity.

And then he met Alastor, and for the last few years he hadn't desired death even once. Funny that.

Now, though? He was lower than he had been since his first year in Hell, and it happened to be the single day of the year when he could make the torture stop once and for all. He could go out and end it all, if he wanted to. He kind of did, but at the same time he wasn't sure; he hadn't planned for this and given it proper thought.

He had a few hours to decide, he supposed.

He drank more expensive stuff than usual while biding his time, figuring that if this happened to be his last day pseudo-alive, it was pointless to save his money. He was pretty sure the bartender suspected as much, since he was a regular and always bought the cheapest shit available, but she certainly didn't spare him any sympathy or pity. She wasn't paid to give a shit.

Eventually the screams and banging started outside.

The angels had come.

Husk finished his flute of champagne and stood up. He was feeling nervous and not quite certain, but he figured he'd walk to the door and make his decision to step out or stay in once he got there.

His feet were unsteady for multiple reasons as he crossed the floor, but halfway to the door something caught his eye.

There was a jukebox by the wall.

He had jokingly tried once, just to see if any music player was good enough, and yes, he had been able to call Alastor with a jukebox. Alastor had found the whole thing fucking hilarious actually, since even he hadn't know that would work. They had spent the rest of the night inserting coins into the thing and playing Ory's Creole Trombone on repeat just to annoy the rest of the patrons, and because Alastor loved the song. It had been fucking stupid, but so damn fun.

Now it mostly hurt because it reminded him of the fact that Alastor was gone. That he had opened his heart to one damn person in Hell and of course ended up getting burned for it. What the hell else had he even expected?

Right, that was why he wanted to walk out and give up on trying anymore. He didn't want to keep on hurting. Nobody would fucking miss him anyway.

...Maybe he should call Alastor one last time, though. To let him know this was it. He didn't know if Alastor would spend any time mourning him at this point, but at least he wouldn't be left hanging on that regard.

Husk abandoned his original course to the door, set his direction to the jukebox, and after a few wobbly steps crashed against it ungracefully. Welp, he had both paws on it now, so that worked out for him just fine.

"Alastor. I'm going outside. Just wanted to let you know that the last, uh, few years were the best time of my afterlife. You were my best fucking friend. I'm sorry I was an ass. Take care."

He felt empty after the last words. Quite possibly his actual last words. This really was going to be it, wasn't it? He had already called Alastor, so there was no going back now.

He took a deep breath and turned around in order to walk the rest of the way to the door. But upon taking the first step he immediately crashed against someone, and that someone grabbed a hold of his shoulders to prevent him from tumbling down.

He saw red. Literally. The person steadying him was very red.

Oh.

He looked up and saw an absolutely furious looking Alastor glaring daggers at him, wearing a sharp and overly stretched grin.

"Excuse me, Husker, my dearest, but you're most definitely not going outside", he hissed, voice cracking with static so badly that it was difficult to understand him.

Husk's mind was completely blank with shock.

Alastor apparently took that as a permission to relocate them to his house.

They were in Alastor's kitchen, and Husk found himself seated at the familiar small table there, and then a glass of juice and a sandwich plate appeared in front of him. Alastor was sitting opposite of him, arms crossed and still looking murderously angry.

"Drink", Alastor said, his voice still heavy with static. "Eat."

Husk had to admit that he had never been threatened with a meal before. He also couldn't remember when he ate last, but the sandwich in front of him did look like the most appetizing piece of food in all of Hell, so he assumed it had been a while. He did as he was told.

Alastor was quiet save for a faint radio interference that Husk could just barely pick up on with his sensitive cat ears. It wasn't usually there, not like that anyway.

The meal made him feel a little bit more clear-headed, which, on hindsight, he suspected was the exact reason Alastor fed him right then. That, and this was probably another thing his mom used to do.

"Now explain yourself", Alastor said, looking a little bit less angry and a lot more weary.

If Husk wasn't so thrown for a loop with a cocktail of conflicting emotions, he would feel very fucking bad for making Alastor look like that. Alastor was supposed to be a cheerful, smug jackass; not look like he had doubled his age in the split second trip between the pub and the kitchen. Now, Husk still felt bad for it, but he was also so glad to see his best friend that his heart felt like bursting. He was confused and worried, as well.

"Uhh…" he said intelligently, and scratched the back of his neck while fishing for better words. "To be fair, I didn't really plan on that. I didn't know what day it was until I got to the pub. And then I just figured I'd take the opportunity."

And then Alastor looked utterly furious again. "Opportunity? You call getting yourself cut down before we have a chance to jaw 'an opportunity'?"

Husk winced and lowered his gaze to stare at the table. Only the fact that Alastor was so mad about Husk attempting suicide made him feel secure in the knowledge that Alastor was not going to kill him on the spot. That would be counter-productive.

"I was going to visit you tomorrow", Alastor said, sounding thoroughly displeased.

Husk looked up at him in surprise.

Alastor would have come back to him tomorrow?

"I wanted to make you wait for as long as you made me", Alastor admitted. "It seemed fitting, and I was going to be busy today. I meant to get rid of a few inconvenient individuals, but I suppose that will have to wait another year now."

Huh. That was… frankly, disturbing to hear. The last part. The first part, however…

"You're such a woman, you know", Husk blurted. Why yes, he was still drunk as fuck.

Alastor looked completely baffled, which was a really damn hilarious sight. Maybe it was just the euphoria of talking to Alastor again that made everything better than it should be, but Husk couldn't deny how funny it all was.

"The whole making me wait for as long as you did -thing", Husk elaborated, making very vague gestures with his paws to underline his point. "I used to know a few gals who did that, but not a single guy."

Alastor went right back to looking displeased. "My go to solution to arguments is usually grabbing a shiv. Would you prefer that? And I'll have you know that I'm following my mother's example here."

Husk snorted in triumph. "Told you. It's a woman thing."

Alastor stared at him, and then stood up. "I think you need to doss for a while. This conversation is not going the way it should with you half-seas over."

Husk was escorted to the couch, where he was happy enough to pass out in short order, knowing Alastor would talk to him again when he eventually awoke.

\-----

It was a few hours later that Husk woke up to the feeling of his head being gently stroked, and to the sound of his own purring.

He felt really disoriented. He had never woken up like this before. Hell, he should be in a ditch as far as he kne-

Oh. Right. Alastor. Angels. Champagne.

His purring cut off abruptly now that he was properly awake, and the fingers in his fur stilled for a moment, before continuing the stroking.

"Are you awake, Husker?"

Damn, his head was in Alastor's lap, judging from where the voice was coming from. And now that he thought about it, he could feel it, too.

Yeah, he was not going to open his eyes anytime soon. He didn't want this moment to end and the hangover to begin.

He grunted an affirmative.

"Good. I've been doing a lot of thinking while you were dossing", Alastor said, keeping his voice relatively low and the radio echo effect minimal. Was he being considerate of Husk's impending hangover? Or did he, too, want to avoid accidentally breaking the moment? "My apologies for making you feel awful enough to consider getting erased. I feel I was justified in my anger, but clearly I miscalculated in how to express it. I felt truly insulted by your offer for a deal, when I had thought I had made it right clear that I didn't want that kind of a relationship with you. You're my closest friend; I don't want to bind you as my pawn. ...It has been a long time since I've experienced such a personal slight."

Husk could feel his eyes stinging behind his eyelids. Goddammit.

He slowly shifted so that he was pressing his face into Alastor's stomach, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the demon's skinny waist. Alastor tensed for a moment, but then relaxed again and resumed the stroking, only this time on the back of Husk's head.

"I'm very fucking sorry", Husk said, somewhat muffled by Alastor's shirt, but certain he was heard. "I didn't mean it. I'm just motherfucking stupid when I'm hung over and put on the spot. And when I was avoiding you… That was me being really fucking dumb as well. When I'm at a loss, I drink. That's me, a fucking drunkard. That's how I've always dealt with shit."

There was silence for a moment before Alastor hummed. "Duly noted. I notice you're still not telling me what the initial issue was."

Husk tensed. Shit. He was not prepared for this. Now was absolutely not the right time. Not that he wanted to tell Alastor at all, but if he had to, this was not how it should go.

Alastor gave a staticky sigh, and scratched behind Husk's ear; it was too bad he was way too anxious to enjoy it, because it felt nice. "Never mind. That was a part of what I was thinking about. You're clearly going to go to great lengths to avoid telling me, so for the sake of putting this mess behind us, I'm willing to let go of that part. That is, on the condition that you will never try to get yourself cut down without giving me a warning in advance so I can stop you. Today was too close a call. You're not allowed to do that to me again. You're not allowed to get erased on purpose. Can you promise me at least this much?"

Husk felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't have to tell Alastor. He could just wait for the feelings to go away, or at least simmer down into an ignorable background noise that he could easily not acknowledge despite its presence.

He could live with that. As long as he had Alastor by his side in some capacity, he could deal with the occasional traitorous thought.

"I promise."

He could do this. It wouldn't be the first time.

He curled up closer to Alastor and resumed his purring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Chapter 3 of "Fine, jackass!" goes between this and the next chapter.  
> 2\. LOOK AT THIS! [This chapter has cool Alastor's POV fanart!](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-sPmoCAH_B/?igshid=1j52ltgckreaq)<3<3


	11. Slowly burning coals

_It got easier each year._

\-----

Husk looked up from the book he was reading when Alastor appeared in the room. It was such a common occurrence that he no longer even bothered to be surprised or indignant about it; he simply rolled with it if he wasn't really doing anything anyway.

"Here, a present for you", Alastor said without any further ado, looking unbearably pleased with himself as he plucked Husk's book from his paws and handed him… a pair of black horns?

What the fuck?

Husk looked at the objects in his paws, trying to puzzle it out. They were small, roughly sickle shaped but with an extra hook coming from the handle part, and they were a brownish black colour. They also looked… familiar…

Husk almost gave himself a whiplash with the way he abruptly lifted his head from looking down at the horns to looking up at the top of Alastor's head. A very hornless top.

"What the hell?" Husk asked in mild and unexplainable alarm. "You're giving me your horns?"

Alastor laughed, looking way too amused with the situation. Asshole. "Antlers, darling! I'm a deer; I have antlers, not horns."

That was very unhelpful.

"That does not answer the fucking question! And I will not be harboring your motherfucking body parts for you!"

Alastor was unable to answer said question for a few minutes; he was laughing way too hard.

Husk was half inclined to throw the wheezing bastard out of his house. That is, after he glued the fucking antlers back on his head. Or hammered them. He wasn't too picky about the method.

When Alastor finally did calm down, Husk received his explanation: Alastor shed his antlers once a year and new ones grew in to take their place in short order. Husk hadn't known about it before because Alastor didn't like people seeing him that way, so he tended to stay in his house until his new antlers grew in. Husk was quite touched about the gesture after that; it spoke volumes of the trust Alastor had for him. He was pretty sure that between the lines had been “you're the only person to have seen me like this”, and fuck if that didn't warm his old heart.

The very next day Husk bought the equipment needed to make a strawberry red plaque that he mounted the antlers on. He hung it over the radio in his living room, just because it seemed like the most fitting place. Alastor's sheer delight at seeing it for the first time made the effort well worth it. It also had the questionable side-effect – well, he thought it was a side-effect; he didn't know if Alastor had planned to do this regardless – of Alastor giving him a new pair every year after that.

Husk decided to take it as a challenge.

The second and third pair he turned into coat hooks by the front door, despite the fact that he didn't have enough visitors to warrant it. Alastor found it hilarious and took to hanging his coat there whenever he visited, which Husk approved of very much as Alastor's back and shoulders looked really nice without his coat. Not that he'd say anything to Alastor about that part.

The fourth pair served the same purpose in the kitchen, but for hanging the oven mitts and the apron Alastor had decided to make permanent. The fifth pair joined them because Alastor wanted to hang his own apron there as well, despite the fact that it disappeared every other day when Alastor used it at his own home. Husk didn't even bother questioning the point of it because it obviously made Alastor happy and that was all that mattered. Besides, he found himself feeling stupidly reassured whenever he saw the apron gone, as it meant Alastor was at home either cooking something or butchering some poor soul, and it was somehow nice to know what he was doing even when he wasn't around.

The sixth pair was turned into keychain charms for his house key and the spare key. He didn't notice it for years, but he never had to look for his keys afterwards; the main key was always on his person when he needed it, even that one time when he had been about ninety percent sure he had locked himself out. When he finally noticed, he made the very deliberate decision to Not Think About It.

The seventh and eighth pair replaced the towel hooks in his bathroom. The ninth pair he put in the bedroom to hang his magician's coat on. The tenth pair he mounted over his front door on the outside for no particular reason. They were too subtle to be seen unless one knew to look for them, but for some reason they made his home feel strangely safer. Protected. He didn't think about or question that, either.

After that he stopped trying to find use for the things, and just tossed them in a locked drawer. He couldn't bring himself to throw any away, despite the drawer getting fuller each year.

After all, they were a sign of trust and strange affection from his best friend.

\-----

_The two of them grew closer, and Husk was mostly content with it. He didn't necessarily need more._

\-----

“ _Husker, buddy old pal! How have you been feeling lately?_ ”

“...That’s a weirdass fucking question from your mouth. What the hell?”

“ _Answer it._ ”

“Fine, I guess? Bought a new book recently and it’s entertaining enough. I don’t know what the hell you’re looking for here.”

“ _Good. Keep that up!_ ”

“What the fuck? ...Al? ...That was fucking weird.”

Alastor didn’t bring the conversation up the next time they saw each other, and neither did Husk. He figured it out a week later when the extermination day happened.

Oh.

He made sure to be more aware of the date in the coming years, and carried his Walkman with him at all times for roughly a month around the date.

Alastor called every year, before and after the day. Sometimes more than once.

\-----

_He couldn’t possibly ask for more than what he was already so freely given._

\-----

"Husker, this is Niffty. She's and old pal of mine, and she needs a place to lay low for a few days, and I figured you'd be the perfect person to provide that!"

"Hi, I'm Niffty! Wow, you look fluffy! Can I touch your tail? Oh no! Your bookshelf is so dusty! Is that a cobweb?! Your house really needs some cleaning, which is really not that odd since you're a man and all. Oh no, what is that?"

"Al, don't you fucking dare- Alastor! Come back here, you cowardly motherfucker!"

\-----

"Alastor. It's been almost two weeks. If you don't come here and remove that little terror from my house right this instant, I will sell her in the black market and never speak a single word to you again, you son of a bitch!"

\-----

_He would occasionally think about it when he saw couples. When Alastor was being particularly kind in his own way. When Alastor looked especially handsome. When a touch lingered a moment too long or otherwise deviated from the norm._

\-----

" _Oh, Husker~_ "

Husk did not like that tone. At all. Alastor was going to be up to his bullshit again and he fucking knew it.

He sighed and walked over to the radio anyway. "What the fuck do you want?"

" _I'm glad you're home! Would you like to grab a cup of java with me? I'd like to show you my favourite joint for that!_ "

He smelled a rat. This sounded way too innocent for the tone of voice used earlier. It was a fucking trap.

"I suppose."

" _Swell!_ "

Husk found himself seated at a round wooden table across from a widely grinning Alastor, who looked way too pleased with himself. The place they were at looked like an old school saloon straight from the Western flicks. They were probably not in Pentagram City anymore.

"Husker, my dearest friend! I'm glad you could make it."

Husk couldn't deny the spark of happiness that ignited in his heart at those words, but he'd be twice damned if he let Alastor know. Besides, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Sure. I'm not completely against seeing you, either", he grumbled, and was rewarded by Alastor laughing. He smiled a little at that despite himself.

He picked up the menu in front of him to see what the selection was. After all, he was already here, so he might as well play along until shit hit the fan. There were pies, soups, cak-

Hold the hell on!

Husk's eyes went back to the words that they had skimmed over but still caught.

Imp meat pie.

Sinner soup.

Demon marrow delight.

He shut the menu and gave a closer look at the picture on the cover. An old school, stylized cartoon demon was cheerfully digging its silverware into a leg on a plate.

"You brought me to the fucking Cannibal Colony?" Husk wheezed, wanting to scream but also not wishing to get ripped apart by the notoriously outsider-intolerant locals.

Alastor laughed, drinking in Husk's horrified expression with obvious glee. "Don't worry, my pally! I will not let anyone eat you. Not a single nibble."

Husk did scream after that, and he threw the menu in Alastor's laughing face.

\-----

_But most of the time, he didn't even notice it anymore._

\-----

Husk smirked to himself as he took a seat at the very nicely located table he had gone out of his way to reserve for an hour. The show could be viewed perfectly from here, and it had been going on for a while now so it was pretty much exactly where he wanted it to be.

He set down his beer, placed his Walkman on the table and pulled out the seat next to himself. He cleared his throat to get the anticipatory tone out of it, and pressed a paw on top of the Walkman. "Alastor. Come here. I have something to show you."

His smirk widened as he waited. It took maybe a minute for Alastor to appear on the free seat, as Husk had known would happen. He was facing the stage, although his attention was on Husk for the first merciful second.

"Hello, Husk-" And that was when Alastor's eyes were automatically drawn to the movement on the stage. Much to his very obvious regret. "Goodness gracious! What- I- Why-"

Husk cackled and slapped a paw on Alastor's shoulder in utter, evil glee.

Alastor's eyes were wide and his grin was frozen in horror as he stared at the stripper doing a lewd dance on the stage, wearing next to nothing.

This was the best fucking moment in Husk's afterlife!

He was doubling over in laughter by the time Alastor got over his shock and vanished.

He slapped a paw on top of the Walkman, still wheezing. "Alastor. This was for the fucking cannibals, you jackass. Good luck getting that view out of your brain!"

Oh yes, this was well worth the fucking reservation fee.

\-----

_It never went away, but the initial raging flame in his heart turned into the comfortable warmth of slowly burning coals at the bottom of a fire-pit._

\-----

Husk was having a grand old time at a casino downtown when an unholy fucking racket started outside. And it wasn't like it started like normal scuffles did, with gradual shouting and then gunshots and shit. No, first it was quiet, and then there was a flash of red and blue light and suddenly the sound of an all out war appeared from out of nowhere.

Husk clutched at his chest and backed against a wall in a moment of sheer terror, images of an entirely different battlefield vivid in his mind. But as soon as he roughly hit the wall he could feel a stinging pain in his wings – which were something human Husk had definitely never had – and that, thankfully, jolted him back into reality before the flashback could take a proper hold of him.

He was already dead. This was his afterlife. Whatever was going on was not the war. It didn't necessarily even concern him. He didn't have to pay any mind to it. He was safe enough. Nobody expected him to go out there.

He didn't have to do anything.

Also, he just lost his game by backing out.

...Fuck damn it! He had had decent cards, too!

Screw almost-flashbacks, this sucked fucking donkey balls!

He growled to himself, and angrily walked over to the large window by the front door to see just what had screwed him over.

What he saw made him forget all about his cards and the war.

Outside were Alastor and Vox battling it out, surrounded by a horde of clearly magical minions having their own separate fight.

It took Husk a moment to start making sense of the confusing mess of way too many participants, and to peel his eyes away from Alastor, but he had been to a war and could read a battlefield when he needed to. So read it he did.

The conclusion he came to made a sense of cold dread twist his stomach.

Alastor was losing.

Alastor himself seemed to be holding up against Vox very well. That wasn't the problem. But his weird stitched up shadow minions weren't doing so great: Vox's odd crackly cartoon characters were slowly but surely snuffing them out and gaining ground. That wasn't good. If they destroyed all of Alastor's minions, they would have free reign to gang up on Alastor, and it didn't take an actual strategist to know that wouldn't end well.

Husk found himself with a dilemma he wouldn't have had roughly ten years ago: he actually wanted to go outside and join the fight to help Alastor, but he couldn't. If he did he would simply make himself a target that Vox would no doubt zoom in on immediately. After all, another demon voluntarily joining a fight like this was an obvious sign that he was… closely connected to Alastor. A smart enemy like Vox would immediately consider the fact that it might potentially work both ways, in which case Alastor could get fatally distracted if Husk was targeted and hurt. Thus, Husk would immediately be purposefully brought to Alastor's attention, and then targeted and hurt in the hopes of achieving that.

Now, he didn't really think Alastor would let that distract him from Vox. He would probably get mad and afterwards berate Husk for being so phenomenally stupid. But during the fight? Chances were he would pretend to not give a shit. But… call Husk blinded by affection and foolishly projecting the sentiment on a very unsuitable person, but he thought there was a small possibility that Alastor just might…

He couldn't even bring himself to finish that mushy line of thought. He could briefly catch a glimpse into that fantasy; a scene of Alastor shielding Husk's battered form from Vox's entire army. But that was such an unrealistic expectation, so out of character for Alastor, that Husk refused to entertain it for a second longer.

Realistically, if he went outside and started fighting Vox's minions right now, he would simply find himself recovering from his death for a week, with Alastor angry at him.

He slammed a frustrated fist against the windowsill with a growl.

The one fucking time he was willing to voluntarily join a fight…

A loud bang and a flash of red light brought his attention back to the battle just in time to see Vox get blasted away. Alastor turned around to look at the minion battle around him, and his grin grew tighter. Yes, he was certainly noticing the same issue Husk had.

Thankfully, he had a solution. He spoke to his microphone and snapped his fingers, and a large summoning circle appeared on the ground. A moment later a bunch of very varying looking demons appeared within the circle, some looking very baffled, some very scared, some resigned to their fate.

These had to be the fools who had made a deal with Alastor and were now paying the price.

Alastor spoke to them with grand gestures towards the cartoon minions, all the while keeping his microphone behind his back and pointed in Vox's general direction. Probably somehow keeping a track of him.

Husk saw his chance and seized it with both paws. He slipped out of the casino, past the battling minions and to the edge of the waning summoning circle.

Vox wouldn't know the difference between him and the others.

Because all the other demons were standing very still and listening to Alastor, Husk's movement caught his attention. Their eyes met, and Husk could see Alastor's widen. That, and his speech was cut off mid-sentence – Husk felt stupidly proud of the fact and smirked at his best friend.

Alastor's smile grew larger and he laughed in a genuinely delighted manner. Husk snorted in amusement, but then his smile dropped as he caught sight of a television crackle not too far behind Alastor. Thankfully, Alastor noticed Vox's presence as well, and soon the fight was back on.

As Husk clawed his way through countless cartoon minions and realized Alastor's side was definitely winning now, he could only think of one bizarre thing.

He was willing to fucking die for the Radio Demon, and it would be worth it for that delighted laugh.

\-----

_Being simply warm was better than being cold. Heat was a luxury he didn't necessarily need._

_He was content as he was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 of Fine, jackass! go between this and the next chapter.  
> 2\. Look at this [amazing fanart this chapter has received!](https://0-memento-mori-0.tumblr.com/post/190510203734/most-of-my-followers-are-not-hazbin-fans-so-sorry)<3<3  
> 3\. Look! Look! There's [more cool as fuck fanart!](https://tall-dark-alcoholic.tumblr.com/post/190867343426/beautiful-dangerous) AAAAAA!<3  
> 4\. EEEEEE! [Even more fanart!](https://www.deviantart.com/oppiethedragon/art/Demon-Marrow-Delight-831233200) And it's hella cute and fun!  
> 5\. Also, there's a little cursed bit of writing in the comment section. Approach at your own risk ;)


	12. A change of scenery

Husk's afterlife after Alastor had entered it was certainly fucking colourful. Both in the good and in the bad.

The good times were the highlights of his dull existence. There were regular good times when either one of them was invited for a lunch or a dinner or simply for a glass of whiskey at the other's place. When they hit the pub together. When they went grocery shopping together just so Alastor could get amusement out of the other demons' shocked looks when he carried Husk's shopping basket. That one time Alastor did stand-up comedy and told just dad jokes for an entire hour and Husk was in fucking stitches half because of the awful jokes and half because of the rest of the audience's reactions – the fuckers didn't know if they were allowed to groan in despair or if they were obligated to laugh in order to not fucking die. The times they visited bookstores, thrift shops, antiquarians, or old record stores to look for new old things to read or listen to. Whenever they found a movie or a TV-show old enough for Alastor's approval and watched it together at Husk's home.

The best times were when they went to the casino together. Alastor's creepy poker face was out of this world and it was fucking hilarious to watch the other patrons lose their shit around him. They always made a killing together, and then they went to the finest pub in town and bought everyone a round of champagne and had a jolly good time the whole night. Actually, those nights were the best times of Husk's entire existence, life and afterlife combined. That's why he kept them very rare – he didn't want them to ever lose their magic, and he had potentially the whole literal eternity to consider. So, once a year, maximum, no matter how badly he wanted to do it more often.

Of course, there were also bad times. Times when Husk was reminded too much of the war by one thing or another and he spent weeks drinking day and night to dull the memories. The rare times Alastor was suddenly reminded of Husk's attempted suicide and he plain panicked, and only calmed down if he got to cuddle with Husk for a good long while. Times when they had arguments over stupid shit. Times when Alastor went toe to toe with someone powerful and needed all the henchmen he could get, and Husk was too worried about Alastor to skip, war trauma or not. The occasions when Alastor decided to drag Husk into his bullshit entertainment projects that were only fun for Alastor and mostly annoying, scary, taxing, or stressful for Husk. Like that one time Alastor had wanted to do some mischief at Vox's – yes, fucking Vox's! – station and Husk had been assigned as the distraction. He almost died in the process and had only survived because Alastor had intervened in the nick of time. Alastor had been successful in whatever bullshit he had been doing and had been high on it for weeks, but Husk had been lowkey pissed off at him for a long while.

And then there was the worst time. That one time when Husk actually did die.

That had been a fine fucking mess. The situation had been similar to the Vox Case, but at another big name demon's place. Except this demon had known that Husk was an ally to Alastor, so the distraction had ended with Husk's very dead body very fast. Husk had obviously been dead for a whole week and hadn't witnessed any of the direct aftermath himself, but he had heard the word of it and seen some of the results later on.

Alastor had slaughtered literally half of Pentagram City in revenge and grief.

The mansion of the demon who killed Husk had obviously been obliterated. Then the immediate area around it. Then Alastor had had large scale broadcasts twice a day every single day of the week Husk had been dead and painfully recovering. Then he had repeated that for another week when Husk had refused to see him after waking up from his death, and had only stopped when Husk – sick and tired of getting war flashbacks from the screaming in the radio – had yelled at him via his radio. Who knows how long he would have continued if Husk hadn't intervened.

Hell had been really fucking empty and quiet for the next month or so. Afterwards, during a pub trip, a bartender had let Husk know that Lucifer himself had told the local big name demons to not harm a hair on Husk's head in an attempt to get to Alastor, or Lucifer would personally skewer the guilty party with an angel weapon. Now, there was no way to prove if the rumor had any basis on truth – and Husk had really doubted it – but it had refused to die for the next couple of years, and Husk had been very damn safe during that time.

The demon who had killed Husk had been erased by the angels during the next extermination. Alastor had never admitted it, but Husk was one hundred percent certain it had been his doing. He had felt oddly touched by it.

Before all that, though, he had been really fucking mad at Alastor for getting him killed in the first place. When he had awoken from his temporary death, Husk had proceeded to blow the fuck up at Alastor for basically arranging his death.

It had taken almost four weeks for Husk to feel well enough after the trauma of dying in Hell – it wasn't a pleasant experience – and forgiving enough to let Alastor grovel his way into being friends again. It had taken a good long while for them both to get over the emotional trauma of the whole fucking disaster, and for their relationship to repair itself properly, but eventually they had found their balance again. Alastor had never directly put him in harm's way after that, even though he did continue bribing him into joining his safer bullshit projects every now and then. And Husk kept joining the large scale tousles Alastor occasionally had – although he had to keep an ear out for them himself, as Alastor no longer automatically summoned him there like he had before. Husk was equal amounts annoyed and touched.

All in all, it wasn't a bad way to spend roughly forty years of his afterlife. Husk was certain he would have voluntarily gone out during an extermination day at some point or another during that time if he hadn't had Alastor to spice up the monotony of his afterlife and keep him company. There had certainly been drinking binges that had brought him low enough to stop caring, and Alastor had personally dragged him back up each time. Alastor was quite frankly the best fucking thing to have ever happened to Husk.

But now? Alastor was back to his fucking bullshit again.

Husk was still angry about losing the rather sizeable pot just because Alastor had felt like participating in a ridiculously stupid charity project. A hotel that fucking rehabilitates sinners? What the fuck was the Princess smoking and could Husk please never come into contact with that shit? Surely Alastor realized the whole thing was doomed from the start?

Husk could ask, but he was not about to talk to Alastor anytime soon, free booze or not. Hadn't he told the asshole to call before magically pulling him? He had even had his Walkman with him, since it was the day after the extermination day and Alastor might have felt the need to check on him, so the motherfucker could have easily given Husk a heads up a couple of minutes before fucking magicking him away from a table full of money? He could have revealed his cards a moment earlier and won! Now he had lost all of his money again!

He grumbled to himself and turned to view his new liquor cabinet. He supposed they were meant for his non-existing customers, but he was having a bad fucking day and sitting right next to free alcohol; fuck yes he was going to drink that shit.

He pulled out a bottle of cheap vodka and poured himself a full glass, not bothering to count measures. He downed a third of it in one go.

"Oh, Husker! Already dipping the bill on the job, and at such a pace, too? Why, I should think you'd be happy about a change of scenery and rejoice in the break on your routine!"

Of fucking course it was Alastor. Husk growled and his ears turned back to let the jackass know he was not happy. Otherwise he ignored him and took another gulp of his drink, taking comfort from the alcohol burning his throat.

Alastor invaded his field of vision, all grins and smelling of jambalaya. Actually, now that Husk was forced to look, he noticed Alastor had a plate of the stuff with him. As if on cue, it was set down on the counter in front of Husk.

"I noticed you didn't show up to dine with the rest of us, so I figured I'd bring you some", Alastor said, and put down a fork and a knife as well.

Husk wanted to ignore the food, just to be petty. He really considered it. But he had last eaten in the morning, and Alastor hadn't made jambalaya in a while now, so it was fucking impossible to resist.

He gave Alastor a glare before sitting down, picking up the cutlery and beginning to eat in silence.

Or well, silence on his part; Alastor was not familiar with the concept and was rattling on and on about their new co-workers.

Fucking co-workers. Husk couldn't believe he was going to be stuck working – without pay no less – for who knew how fucking long. Hadn't he made it abundantly clear that he didn't want a day job? Apparently not clear enough. But he would do it for Alastor, even if he kind of hated the asshole right then.

A wink and some cheap booze worked wonders as a bribe, but only when they came from Alastor.

He dropped the cutlery down on the now empty plate and turned his back to his friend, hoping to be left the fuck alone already.

As fucking if.

"Was there enough? I can bring you more if you're still hungry. ...Husker?"

Husk pointedly didn't acknowledge him in any manner. He knew being ignored and not spoken to was the best way to let Alastor know he had fucked something up again. Well, the only way, really, since yelling only amused him unless the situation was bad enough for Husk to be genuinely fucking pissed off, which was rare.

Alastor appeared next to him and pulled him into a side-hug. "Husker, my dear, my darling, my grumpy kitty-cat! Are you sore with me?"

Husk resisted the urge to yell, because that was exactly what Alastor wanted. Instead he ruffled his feathers and tried to block the inevitable nuzzling with his wing.

Alastor simply rubbed his cheek against the wing with an insufferable grin.

"I'll take that as a yes. Why is that? Was it the eyebrow?"

...Well it certainly was now! He had actually forgotten about it after the whole fucking eldritch abomination show outside. He gave a short hiss at Alastor, who simply chuckled. Asshole.

"I couldn't resist! It was sticking out! I'm sure it would have fallen into your drink later, so you should be thanking me."

Fucking hell with this guy.

"Fuck you very much, jackass", Husk said, finally giving up on the silent treatment, since it clearly wasn't working today. "And no, actually it's you roping me into your bullshit projects again. What the hell are you even trying to accomplish here? This is never going to fucking work."

Alastor looked absolutely delighted at the reply, and Husk's heart may have skipped a beat. Fuck damn it.

"Oh, I know it won't. That's the fun of it! I can already imagine all the desperate sinners who think they still have an ounce of goodness in them flocking in, tender hope in their hearts and dreams of reuniting with their loved ones in their minds... only to find out that the path of redemption is long, tedious, rocky, and downright impossible to traverse with the meager equipment they have!"

Husk rolled his eyes. "Okay, so sadism. Got it. But why do I have to be involved? I don't get off on that shit."

Alastor's claws twitched. "Don't phrase it that way. Oh, Husker, of course you need to be involved! I imagine I'll be working on this little project for a long time, and intensively at that. I don't want you to be lonely while I'm busy."

...That was Alastor speak for wanting to have Husk around. Goddamnit, his heart felt like bursting from joy and affection and Alastor still hugging him was not helping at all.

Why was he this easily manipulated?

Also, fucking hell, he caught himself purring quietly, which was not fucking on when he was trying to stay mad! He stopped immediately and could only hope-

"No, don't stop!" Alastor said, and brought a hand up to the side of Husk's head to scratch behind his ear on just the right spot and damn it, there he went again with the purring. "That's better. Husk, this will be fun if you give it a chance. There's the whole rest of eternity left to brood at your home; surely you can spare a few months to a couple of years to this cause?"

Fuck. He was way too weak for this man.

"I suppose."

Alastor laughed happily and nuzzled Husk's cheek and yeah, he had never stood a chance.

Husk wrapped an arm around Alastor's waist and leaned his head towards the scratching.

Guess he was fucking doing this then. At least he was in good company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's your timestamp](https://youtu.be/Zlmswo0S0e0?t=1566). Now, that is either the pilot, or a long rickroll. You decide if you're risking it : D


	13. Peripheral vision

It was the little things that made Husk resent the Hazbin Hotel.

Actually, no. It wasn't really the hotel that was at fault, even though Husk did his best to redirect his disgruntled feelings towards it in order to not direct them towards the actual root cause of the problem.

Said root cause was Alastor. Honestly, it was always about Alastor with him if it wasn't about his inner demons. Big fucking surprise. Paint him shocked.

And the problem? He was feeling left out and forgotten. Insignificant. Unimportant. Like an old favourite toy that had been replaced by a shinier new one.

Jealous.

Alastor had a grand old time playing house with Charlie and running the hotel. He liked strutting around the place and scaring the guests while pretending to be helpful. Occasionally he was as helpful as he ever got with people he didn't actually give a shit about, but that was because he wanted the hotel to be a success to a certain extent. He wanted to encourage the demons to really give redemption a shot, just so he could watch them tumble back to square one and laugh. That was how Alastor rolled, and Husk found that oddly endearing and comforting by this point – yeah, he had been well and truly corrupted by the bastard and he knew it. That wasn't the problem.

It was the way Alastor interacted with the others. He was constantly draped over unsuspecting people, pulling them into abrupt dance numbers, leaning against their heads if they were short or sitting, appearing in their personal space, ruffling their hair… Husk, on the other hand, was rarely the target of such annoying affections anymore. It was most likely because he wasn't bothered by it most of the time – which was half the fun for Alastor – and because he was always around and thus too easy a target. Alastor did give him a side-hug first thing in the morning every day now, which was actually more often than before as they had never seen each other on a daily basis for long periods of time during their decades of friendship. It just felt like less because of all the touchy-feely bullshit Husk witnessed him do with all the random people every single day while he was left alone.

They also never cuddled nowadays. He suspected it was because Alastor wasted all of his touch tolerance on the guests, and was more than done with physical contact by the end of the day, but it still bothered him more than he liked to admit. It was stupid and juvenile of Husk to feel this way, because it wasn't his business who Alastor draped himself over.

If the touching business had been the only thing, Husk probably would have been able to brush it off. But it wasn't.

Now that they were tied to the busy hotel and saw each other every day, they never went to places together. Alastor disappeared at times to hunt or do broadcasts, sure, but he hadn't asked Husk to join him on any outings ever since he had found all the entertainment he needed at the hotel.

Husk's life became a monotone of waking up and having breakfast, going to work at the front desk that doubled as a bar for the entire day with just lunch and dinner breaks, and then retiring for the night whenever he felt like it. Sometimes it was early if he felt tired or wanted to get wasted. Sometimes it was late if he had enough customers to keep him nice and busy and unable to think too much. But it was all he did now. Gone were the days when he'd go to a pub out of boredom. When he'd go to the casino to try to earn money for food and goods, and obviously for the fun of it. When he'd stay at home and read or practice his magic tricks or watch the telly. When he'd hang out with Alastor in whichever way it was offered that day.

Ever since the hotel got busy after the first couple of weeks, he hadn't taken a single day off. Half because he had free booze here and half because there was no actual need to, since he didn't exactly have a life outside of hanging out with Alastor, who was right here.

For the first maybe four months it had been fine. But now he was in a rut and feeling lonely despite Alastor being present. Because while Alastor was present, Husk was simply in his peripheral vision, but never had his full attention.

Another thing chipping at him was the food. Alastor used to cook for Husk all the time back when they lived in their own houses. Now that they both lived in the hotel, it wasn't that simple anymore. Most days it was Niffty who cooked, as that was one of her jobs. Her food was good, but it wasn't the same. And when Alastor did cook, it was now for the whole hotel instead of just the two of them. Best case scenario, it was just for the hotel staff. It rankled worse than Husk could have ever imagined. He really and truly missed their lunches and dinners together, them cooking together, just the two of them. But it appeared to not be possible anymore; not as long as they were at the hotel.

And it got worse. Husk had spent the last almost four decades enjoying the occasional crepes Alastor made specifically for him at random times. But now? He made them for the hotel staff at large whenever he felt like making them. It was no longer a special thing just for Husk, and that hurt surprisingly much. The last time the crepes were made Husk actually hadn't been able to eat any of them, as he had been feeling too sour about it. He didn't think Alastor had even noticed, as he had been busy making more while everyone else ate. Husk had stayed at the table for a while, half hoping Alastor would notice but mostly so that he didn't raise suspicions by leaving too early, but eventually he had slipped out and nobody had questioned it. Most likely they had assumed he had been too hung over to eat crepes.

Plain and simply, he felt like Alastor had gotten bored of him and no longer had any time for him. They chatted for a few precious moments whenever Alastor sat down to have a glass of whiskey to unwind, but they always, without fail, got interrupted by a member of the hotel staff or one of the guests or Angel Dust, who was somewhere in-between the two categories.

Alastor was no longer Husk's alone at any time. He was now everybody's at all times. And every interaction Husk saw made him feel more and more jealous simply because he hadn't had to endure this before. He hadn't had to share Alastor's attention before, or at the very least it has only been Niffty, Mimzy, or Rosie as a third party. And even those occasions had been rare. It was such a stupid thing that he felt like a fucking teenager who sent hate letters to the significant other of their crush. Or perhaps a dangerously possessive husband – the kind of fucker who would fly into jealous rage fits and beat his wife because the mailman delivered a letter and that “obviously” meant she was fucking him. He had about as much right to his jealousy, and both comparisons made Husk feel rotten to the core.

With the jealousy came the old feelings he had thought he had already came to terms with and learned to ignore a long time ago. The want to grab Alastor and kiss the stupid grin off his face, if only to make everyone else back off and to make Alastor realize Husk was the only important person in the room.

He wanted to trap Alastor between him and the bar counter and kiss him so thoroughly that he forgot all about everyone and everything else and focused on Husk alone. Feel him so close that Husk's inner demons had to flee lest they wanted to feel the wrath of the Radio Demon. He wanted to stick his paws underneath Alastor's shirt and feel what probably nobody else had been allowed to touch, while Alastor sunk his own fingers deep into Husk's fur. He wanted so much more, but he realized even this fantasy was pushing Alastor's boundaries more than was realistic by any stretch of imagination, so he didn't even bother imagining it further. He would be satisfied with this alone. Less even, if it meant getting at least something that others didn't.

Fuck damn it, he was in love with the Radio Demon, and had been for ages. There, he said it. He did not simply have a crush on him. It was not a temporary feeling that he would overcome, given time – fucking obviously not, it had been literal decades already. His eye wouldn't catch anyone else and transfer those feelings over no matter how convenient it would be. No, he was utterly, hopelessly in love with Alastor and it probably wouldn't ever change. After all, he had never fallen out of love with any of the friends he had fallen for. Not the ones who had rejected him or the ones he had never confessed to. He had accepted their answer or lack of it and moved on, but he had always silently loved them for as long as they had lived.

He had been delusional to think Alastor would be different. Hell, when he really thought about it, he had known this all along. He had simply refused to put a name to the feeling in hopes that it would be easier to ignore it. And it had been, up until the status quo had changed and he had reasons to no longer be satisfied with what they had.

Hah, he had lost the ability to love years ago indeed; he had laid his love down at Alastor's feel and wouldn't have the eyes for anyone else, unless he started letting other people that close to him as well, and fuck no, he was not risking it. He shouldn't have done that with Alastor, at that, and occasionally he honestly regretted letting it happen, but for the most part and where it counted he was ludicrously happy to have Alastor around anyway.

Except right now it didn't feel like Alastor was around, and he was back to square one with his problems.

So. He resented the Hotel because it had taken Alastor from him. And with how many demons were checking in and out on a weekly basis, it would keep Alastor's attention for a long while yet.

Husk felt like he was rapidly approaching a breaking point and might do something phenomenally stupid if he didn't somehow fix the situation.

But it wasn't that easy. It was never that easy. He couldn't just... confess to Alastor right the fuck now. That, and even if he planned to do that, there was never an opportunity for it. Alastor just didn't have the time to have a proper conversation with him. Hell, Husk had even tried to be fucking responsible and communicate, even if not the love -part. He had steeled himself for the conversation multiple times now, and when he had next seen Alastor he had truly meant to talk to him about how lonely he felt. But each time something had came up before he had been able to speak the words. Someone had interrupted. Something had exploded. Some fucking distraction had appeared and he'd lost the opportunity. The hotel was just so damn busy that there were always interruptions.

One time he had even considered yelling the words at Alastor's face the moment the jackass sat down, instead of working his way up to it. But he hadn't. And one morning he had considered wrapping his arms around Alastor when the side-hug came, and simply not let go until he got the words out. But he hadn't. And one night, when he had been lying awake in his bed, he had considered going to Alastor's room and waking him up to have the talk. But, again, he hadn't.

So at this point he was fucking tired of everything and was willing to simply... apply a band-aid solution to the problem to buy himself more time.

That was why he was knocking on Charlie's office door during her official office hours.

"Come in!"

Husk entered, and was immediately blinded by a bright white smile. Fucking hell, this chick was worse than Alastor.

"Oh, Husk!" she said cheerfully. "What a surprise to see you. I don't think you've been in here even once. Did you need something?"

At least she got right to business. She had learned a few things after the clumsy beginning of her hotel management career, and one of those things was to deal with the people seeking audience with her in a quick and efficient manner, in case there was more than one person wanting her attention.

"Yeah", he answered, and leaned against her desk, not bothering with the chair since he wanted in and out quickly. "I'm gonna take a couple of days off. Not that I need to ask you since you're not fucking paying me, but I figured I'd let you know at least."

Charlie blinked a few times in confusion. "But… But who will be at the front desk?"

Okay, so she had learned a few things, but certainly not everything. Time to teach her the hard way.

"Not my problem", Husk said, and eased off the desk. "Normally people get two off days a week, Princess. You may want to start making plans for that now that you have the first case of borderline fucking burnout in your hands. Some of us aren't working on passion project energy, and don't actually give a fuck."

He walked towards the door.

"Wait! When are you taking the days off?" Charlie asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. Alastor would get a kick out of it.

"Starting right now", Husk answered, and turned to smirk at her. "Maybe you can saddle Alastor with the front desk duty. He's a people person anyway. Good luck."

He closed the door behind him, already feeling a bit better.

Maybe having off days to drink and gamble would fix things.

Maybe not seeing Alastor clinging to other people for a couple of days each week would fix things.

Maybe. Just fucking maybe.

But maybe was all he currently had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at this great fanart this chapter has received!](https://ruffianbc.tumblr.com/post/190620816842/never-tease-an-alcoholic-when-he-is-drunk)<3<3


	14. The breaking point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

Having days off helped for a couple of months.

Husk worked five days a week and then took two days off to unwind, like a regular working person would. He left in the morning-ish on his first day off – too lazy to leave the hotel the previous night – dropped by his home to do whatever, hit the casino in the evening, drank away the night, found his way home, was hung over the next morning, hit the casino again, then the pub again, and returned to the hotel late the next morning with a hangover. Rinse and repeat every week.

It was liberating at first. Having something to sorta look forward to at the end of each week helped him endure the work week. Having two days where he didn’t have to communicate with his co-workers or the random people at his bar helped his introverted ass relax. Having two days where he didn’t have to see Alastor… helped. Maybe. Somehow.

Then having days off became a routine, just like his regular days at the hotel were. It was better, but…

But it was still missing the chaos factor of his surprise outings with Alastor. And Alastor himself was missing from the equation. It felt like he was back to his old afterlife; those ten boring and meaningless years before he had met his best friend. Except he had a day job now, which reminded him of his old life, back when he was alive. He hated being reminded of that. He was fifty years dead and better off for it.

Except he wasn't better off. He was feeling more miserable by the day.

Alastor was getting more distant by the day.

Mostly it was Husk's own fault, and he fully acknowledged that fact. He didn't seek Alastor out. He no longer even tried to bring up the fact he wasn't doing well, as he was tired of steeling himself for a conversation and then inevitably failing at having it anyway. It had turned from a possibility of things getting better into a hurtful game of giving himself hope and having it ruthlessly squashed over and over again. He couldn't fucking do it anymore, so he just. Stopped. Let the hope die and apathy take over. Accepted that this was how it was now and it was useless to struggle.

He didn't stop others from pulling Alastor away from him whenever they actually had a chance to talk. He did nothing proactive in order to help himself or even make Alastor act for him. He simply let it all happen and started telling himself it was better this way. If Alastor had so much fun that he didn't need Husk around, then fine. He shouldn't ruin Alastor's fun. He shouldn't act possessive. He shouldn't let his jealousy get the better of him. He shouldn't grab Alastor by his lapels and smoosh their faces together. He was old, tired and depressed enough to put Alastor's needs above his own quietly over and over again.

That is, until he no longer could. When the breaking point he had tried to stave off was finally reached as a direct result of nothing more being done to intervene, and things being left as they were to keep getting steadily worse.

One morning after his days off Husk felt tired. Just so fucking tired of everything. He didn't want to see anyone or do anything. He wanted to be left the fuck alone by the world at large for just one damn day, and that caused him to make the impromptu decision to not go back to the hotel for his work shift.

He only wanted to rest. To shake the routine. He just wanted one day to stay home and have peace and quiet instead of working or hitting the pub. Simply him, his hangover, and mindless television.

Just one day.

What a foolish fucking notion.

It could have been fine. Maybe it could have worked under different circumstances.

What ruined it was the fact that nobody came to look for him when he didn't show up.

Now, it may have been because Alastor and Niffty were the only ones who knew where he lived, and while Charlie probably asked Alastor, well, she wasn't likely to get answers. She wouldn't even think to ask Niffty because she had no reason to believe Niffty would know.

Maybe Alastor figured he was too hung over to leave his home. Maybe he figured he deserved an extra day off. Maybe he was too busy and meant to come check on Husk after his work day was over, but it stretched long into the night – not for the first fucking time. Maybe Charlie didn't ask him and he didn't even fucking notice. 

Whatever the case, Husk was briefly glad because he got exactly what he wanted: a quiet day with nobody bothering him.

But he was mostly absolutely fucking devastated.

He hadn't planned it, not consciously anyway, but he had expected Alastor to show up in the evening at the latest to see what was keeping him. Or at least radio call him to ask him if he was alright. But he hadn't.

Husk was way too fucking emotionally wounded at this point to be rational.

Alastor hadn't cared about Husk not showing up at the hotel.

And if Alastor didn't care, what was even the fucking point.

The breaking point was reached and it wasn't pretty.

He selected a pub he didn't frequent – solely so he wouldn't be found and stopped by… anyone – drank his brains out, and neglected to go back home or to the hotel. He slept in a ditch and went to another pub the next day for a repeat performance, not even waiting for his hangover to pass. The day after that he did the same. Then he ran out of cash and mugged some unfortunate asshole for more money and spent two more days abusing his liver.

Finally he was not only out of money again, but in too damn poor a condition to win any fights due to not really having eaten much the entire time. So, as soon as he was more or less done with the worst of his hangover, he was forced to drag his ass into one of his regular pubs where he had a tab. He wouldn't need actual money there.

That was when Alastor finally showed up. Unsurprisingly enough, although Husk hadn't really been thinking about that possibility when he made his decision to go to that particular pub. No, he had been more concerned about getting fucking wasted before he could feel too much.

Husk had barely gotten into the pub, much less gotten started with drinking, so chances were Alastor had somehow gotten alerted when he got here. That meant Husk was mostly sober when a familiar gloved hand landed on his shoulder while he was leaning against the bar counter and nursing his beer apathetically.

"Husker", Alastor said, and Husk automatically turned around to look at him – too used to his voice and presence to default to his go-to reaction of ignoring anyone trying to talk to him. Alastor always got Husk's attention, if Husk wasn't deliberately trying to ignore him.

Husk's heart may have just stopped beating for a moment.

Alastor looked really fucking weary, with bags under his eyes and a strained edge to his grin. He was looking at Husk with a concerned, searching expression, trying to judge how badly gone he was. But Husk didn't care about how terrible Alastor looked. He could have been glaring daggers at Husk and that wouldn't have made a difference.

It was Alastor. It really was Alastor.

Alastor had come to look for him. May even have been looking for him for days now, but without luck – Hell had about as many pubs as it had houses for its denizens, so there was a lot of ground to cover and Husk had deliberately made himself difficult to find.

But found him he had, and they were alone.

Not in the hotel with all the clients and staff. There was no Charlie. No Vagatha. No Niffty. No Angel Dust. No anybody. Just the two of them with some unimportant random drunkards in the background that neither of them paid attention to, and who in return would pay them no particular mind.

Just the two of them.

Just Alastor and Husk.

Just…

Husk's eyes filled with utterly stupid, pointless, and difficult to explain tears.

Alastor was there, for him, for him alone and specifically, with nobody to interrupt them.

It had been over half a fucking year since the last time.

"Husk-"

Husk threw his arms around Alastor and proceeded to bawl his fucking eyes out on the shoulder of Alastor's fine coat. He didn't give a shit that they were in public. He didn't give a damn about Alastor's aversion to sudden touch and the telltale flinch. He didn't give a single solitary fuck about having a meltdown after months of doing so well at hiding it.

He clung to Alastor like his afterlife depended on it, and quite honestly it fucking did.

Alastor's arms looped around his waist, under his wings, and squeezed him tightly for a moment. Then there was a staticky feeling in his fur, and the background noises quieted down. Presumably Alastor had moved them elsewhere, which was probably a good thing even if Husk didn't really care at the moment.

"Husker. I don't know how stable you are on your feet. We should sit down. Or you can lay down if you want."

So they were was either at Alastor's house or his own. A quick glance through his veil of tears told him it was the former, and let him know the position of the couch, which was directly behind Alastor – probably a deliberate decision so Husk could easily check it like he just had.

Screw the suggested options, though. He was not going to let go of Alastor for a single moment right now.

Making a split-second decision, he pushed Alastor down, straddled his lap without ever removing his face from his shoulder or his arms from around him, and topped it up by cocooning them both with his large wings.

Alastor was stiff as a board for moment and there was a distressed radio interference in the air, but then it got quiet again and Alastor relaxed. Husk heard a long-suffering sigh, and then hands started to card through the fur on his back.

"Just so you're aware, if you were anyone else I would have already ripped you apart for this", Alastor said, although there wasn't much conviction in his voice. "I'm still considering it."

No, he wasn't; if he had meant to do that, he already would have. His words also did not help stem Husk's sobs at all. They made him feel stupidly happy, sure, but they also made him cry all the harder.

Alastor simply let him. Alastor continued stroking his back soothingly, and made no move to pull away or disappear. Didn't push Husk off of his very personal space. Didn't say a word.

Husk lost the track of time completely and had no idea how long he stayed there, clinging to Alastor and crying his heart out. But eventually his tears dried and his sobs died out, leaving him feeling absolutely exhausted.

Alastor noticed immediately. "Are you quite done?"

Husk nodded, not sure if his voice would work at this point.

"In that case, I would like to not be trapped any longer, thank you", Alastor said, and pushed lightly at Husk's chest; just enough to let him know he was meant to move, but not actually forcing his hand.

Not that Alastor had ever actually been trapped or needed to push Husk away. He could have just vanished at any time. But he had chosen not to, for Husk's sake.

Good thing Husk had no more tears or energy left, as that simple thought made him feel overly emotional all over again.

He folded his wings and clumsily removed himself from Alastor's lap, eyes cast away in tired embarrassment.

Alastor stood up and wiped a few cat hairs from his coat in a pointed manner that was completely lost on Husk, who was too exhausted to care. He then snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared in Husk's paws.

"Drink that and doss for a bit", he said, patted Husk's cheek, and turned to walk towards the kitchen. "I'll prepare something for us to eat in the meanwhile."

Husk stared at the glass and was very damn thankful he had no tears left.

Fucking hell.

Seeing no better options, he did as he had been told.

The couch and the familiar red quilt smelled strongly of Alastor and helped him fall asleep in no time whatsoever.

He was home. He was finally home again.

\-----

Husk woke up to the smell of food. For a moment he didn't question it at all, since that was a thing that happened every now and then – it was just Alastor visiting him at random because he felt the need to feed Husk.

When he woke up further, he remembered that was no longer the case, because Niffty cooked breakfast and his room was too far away from the kitchen to smell anything anyway.

He sat up with a feeling of mortification when his brain finally caught up with the reality. Damn, Alastor had came to him. Shit, he had cried his eyes out on Alastor. Fuck, he had fucking straddled Alastor for who knew how long and he had been too distraught to even enjoy it.

...There was something sketchy about that last bit, but he chose to ignore it.

He sighed deeply and rubbed at his very crusty and sore eyes. At least Alastor had thought to make him drink some water, because if he hadn't Husk would be feeling a lot worse right now.

...Right, and he had to face Alastor very soon. Fucking peachy. Now that his brains were working a bit better he realized that he had made Alastor horribly uncomfortable earlier with his chosen fucking sobbing position. Just great.

He stretched his sore body, which was actually considerably less sore after a nap on the couch than it had been lately after his frequent rests in the local ditches, and then got up. He might as well face the music as there was no avoiding it. He was feeling too emotionally spent to care too much anyway.

He quietly walked into the kitchen and saw that Alastor was still working at the stove. There was a pot of something set aside on top of a potholder, and Alastor was stirring something shellfishy smelling on a frying pan.

The sight made Husk's breath hitch threateningly, and Alastor's familiar back looked way too comforting and inviting for him to resist in the state of mind he was currently in. He walked over to Alastor, making just enough noise to let him know he was approaching, and then wrapped his arms loosely around Alastor's waist and pressed his forehead against the back of his neck.

Alastor twitched, as he always did when he was touched without a warning, but then relaxed. "Aren't you clingy today. You keep surprising me, Husker. Are you feeling better?"

"A little", he answered, and dared to tighten his hold. Alastor did not object or otherwise reject him. In fact, he leaned back slightly and tilted his head to better accommodate Husk's position. Husk sighed in relief and closed his eyes, slowly breathing in Alastor's scent with every inhale and letting it warm and heal his old, wounded heart by a small measure.

Eventually the food was done and Husk had to let go, much to his regret. He quietly took his usual seat and stared at the table while Alastor set it and served them both a plate of shrimp and grits.

The sight of the food, cooked just for the two of them, made Husk want to start sobbing all over again, but now that he had let the worst of it out earlier and had managed to soak Alastor's presence in for a while, he could thankfully resist the urge. It must have shown on his face, however, as it was Alastor's turn to sigh.

"Will you tell me what is wrong after we have eaten?" he asked with a rare, resigned tone of voice. After all, getting Husk to open up was one of the few things he couldn't make happen with a snap of his fingers or a wave of his microphone stand.

Husk nodded silently, and picked up his fork. Oh, he was going to spill absolutely everything this time, now that he actually had a fucking chance to do it. Not just the part of feeling lonely and neglected. No, fucking everything. This conversation was long overdue and trying to avoid it any longer would simply lead to more misery and cause a further drift between them. If Alastor rejected him, then so be it. At least he would have a good reason to leave the hotel and everything else behind, and wallow in alcohol and depression on his own until they would eventually, hopefully repair their friendship. He could live with that. He would have to.

And if it just so happened that Alastor cut ties with him completely… If he had to suffer one more fucking heartbreak… Well, there was a yearly one way ticket out of Hell. Although he would have to make very damn sure to not rush it like the last time. He would give it a few actual fucking years, just to be sure, and so that Alastor wouldn't connect it with their falling out if he ever noticed. That was the least he could do to repay Alastor for the decades of friendship.

Either way, he needed to finally reveal his hand and see what happened. Take the fucking gamble. That's what he did best anyway.


	15. Applying communication

Husk was ushered to sit on the couch again after they were done eating. Alastor had – very deliberately, no doubt – not served anything alcoholic during or after the meal, which made him feel slightly off balance. But not as much as the next fucking bit.

Alastor sat down next to him, and Husk noted the very odd space between them. Typically there were two options for the distance between them: either Alastor was clingy and they were practically cuddling even if they weren't literally doing it, or there was enough space for Husk's wing on Alastor's side to rest however he wanted it to without it entering Alastor's personal bubble. But right now that space was off, with Alastor not touching him but sitting closer to him than usual when that was the case. If Husk unfolded his wing, it would inevitably touch Alastor's arm or side or both.

He didn't know what to think about that, so he settled on feeling on the edge and keeping his wings tightly folded.

"I believe there was an explanation you owed me", Alastor said after a moment of awkward silence.

No games this time, that much was for sure. He must be sick and tired of Husk's bullshit, which he honestly couldn't blame him for. Husk was sick and tired of his own bullshit.

Now, where the fuck should he even begin? He was not ready to have this conversation, but it was unavoidable for multiple reasons. Hell, it probably should have been had decades ago. Definitely should have been, actually.

He sighed, slouched forward, and gripped the edge of the couch between his knees with his claws; eyes on the floor and ears turned back. Fucking hell, even though he had already made his decision, he was still stalling as much as he could.

Time to stall a little bit more. Just in case things went pear-shaped. He wanted at least one thing resolved before potentially losing Alastor. He would get to the real fucking shit eventually, but first things first.

"This is going to be really fucking stupid", he muttered, not even sure if it was directed at Alastor or just to himself. Alastor hummed in response regardless, possibly in agreement. Damn it. "Okay, so… I could start from the beginning, but I'm gonna start with the more recent shit because it's more directly relevant to this situation."

He felt Alastor shift, probably to a more comfortable position. He certainly had the right idea, as this was gonna take a good fucking while. Too bad there was no way in hell that Husk would be able to be any definition of comfortable himself. What he wouldn't give for a bottle of fucking Jägermeister right then.

"I've been fucking miserable for months", he said, and stared at the floor in order to not look at Alastor. "I hate being at the hotel. I hate having a day job. I hate the fucking routine that's always the same, no matter my useless attempts to spice it up. I hate watching the same faces every day; watching everyone form closer connections with each other while I purposefully stay away from that shit because I don't want any more annoying fuckers in my life. But I still resent watching it because it makes me feel lonely and like I don't belong. I hate feeling lonely in the middle of a crowded fucking room. I hate having you around but not actually getting to spend any time with you. I hate watching you interact with the others while I'm right there, feeling fucking neglected and like I don't matter. I hate how I see you constantly but don't feel like I'm being seen in return. I've been so fucking lonely and depressed that it was only a matter of time before I spiraled."

The longer he talked, the deeper his claws dug into Alastor's couch, piercing the fabric easily and ripping it open wider. His shoulders hunched and his wings unfolded and rose to put a barrier between him and Alastor, or possibly just him and the world in general. He screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to calm down the turbulent emotions he couldn't even begin to name.

"And then you didn't check on me when I didn't return to the hotel after my break", he said hollowly, feeling like his heart was being torn apart all over again just because he said aloud the words that had been tormenting him ever since the moment he realized Alastor wasn't coming for him. That feeling when all of his fears that had been building up in the hotel had seemingly been confirmed. That moment of depression enhanced certainty that even Alastor had stopped caring. "I didn't actually set that up as a fucking trap or a test on purpose, but it still happened and was the last fucking straw."

He really wished he was drunk. Thoroughly fucking wasted. He didn't want to actually deal with his emotions and problems. But at the same time he desperately wanted Alastor's presence and he wanted to fix everything between them and not have to feel like shit anymore. He wanted things to be better again, even if just for a moment. He was such a fucking mess.

He felt the couch shift, and then Alastor's hand gripped the wing between the two of them gently, and insistently moved it back and out of the way. Husk's eyes were still tightly closed so he didn't know what kind of an expression was directed at him, but he could see the red light of Alastor's eyes even through his eyelids.

"I took a day off", Alastor said, and fucking hell if that wasn't the icing on this disaster cake. So Alastor hadn't even been at the hotel? Hadn't been around to see it when Husk didn't return? "I've been working long days ever since we entered the hotel, and I finally felt that I would be gumming the works if I didn't take a proper break. I didn't want to take my day off at the same time as you, because I would have been too tempted to visit you and disrupt your people-free time, so I booked the next day. Had I been at the Hotel, I would have come for you as soon as it became obvious that you weren't returning."

That made Husk feel simultaneously better and worse. On one hand, he got his confirmation that Alastor was at least paying attention to his presence. Hell, may have even actively wanted it, but hadn't done anything about it – though Husk would be a huge hypocrite if he blamed the guy for that. On the other hand, now Husk's fucking drama felt even more pathetic than before. He had simply fucking assumed that Alastor hadn't noticed or cared that he was gone, when he should have known better after their decades of friendship. After the occasions where Alastor had glued himself to his side when they had been separated for too long. After everything they had been through together.

"I thought my presence cured your loneliness?" Alastor asked when Husk didn't say anything for too long. "It always has before. That's partially why I involved you with the hotel in the first place, as I knew I'd likely be too busy to do much else but run it. We see each other every morning now except on your days off. Seeing me daily or even multiple times a week used to be too much for you and left you joed. I thought that may have been one of the reasons you started taking breaks."

Husk opened his eyes in order to glare at Alastor's clueless fucking face. The jackass really thought that was enough? Thought that looking at him from afar was somehow the same thing as spending hours in his actual company?

"Obviously not this time", he growled, channeling his hurt into anger. "And why would it cure it? You may be around, but you're not actually present. Not to me anyway. When was the last time we talked for longer than five minutes? When we had fun together? Hell, even when we were miserable together?"

Alastor frowned in thought, his smile at its minimum. The longer Husk waited, the tighter said smile turned as Alastor struggled to find an acceptable answer but obviously couldn't.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Alastor asked once he realized any direct answer from him would only prove Husk's point. Motherfucker. "You could have sought me out yourself. You could have told me everything wasn't jake.”

Good point. In theory. And one Husk had thought of himself and actually fucking tried without any results. Any good results anyway; his depression had certainly been fueled by the attempts.

"When? During your random fucking office hours? Should I have set up an appointment? Or should I magically stop being hung over in the morning when you drop by for all of two minutes in order to get an edgewise word in? Or maybe chase the other customers away when you appear at the bar for a drink?" he asked bitterly, and folded his wings tightly by his sides, forcing Alastor to let go. Alastor looked at the hand that was now hovering uselessly in the air, and then fisted it and moved it to his lap. Husk felt slightly guilty, and knew he was being a little unfair, so he sighed and continued his speech with a mutter of: "And you know I suck at asking for shit when it actually fucking matters. I tried. I tried multiple times, but there was always an interruption and you were gone again. Each attempt made you feel more distant to me, so I fucking stopped. I don't deal with my problems, I drink them away, and you know that."

There was a heavy silence between them while Alastor digested the words, and Husk tried his best to see Alastor's side of things. Now that he thought back to what had been said, he could read from between the lines that Alastor had missed him, too. His first thought when it came to having a day off had been to spend it with Husk. He had been aware of the distance between them, but had thought he had been doing Husk a favour by maintaining it. He honestly couldn't fault Alastor for the thought, given how things had worked for them in the past; it had always been Husk's need for space that had moderated Alastor's want to spend time with him, but over the decades they had found a compromise that worked. That is, until it no longer could in a new setting, and both of them had ended up flailing helplessly about it on their own ends.

They were both such fucking messes.

Husk huffed in mild amusement, and relaxed a little. The lonely, neglected feeling finally released its icy hold on his heart and made way for relief. No matter what came next, at least he had the knowledge that Alastor hadn't forgotten about him or cast him aside in favour of something more entertaining. That he hadn't been a particularly long bullshit project that had finally ran its course.

Alastor noticed the change in Husk's mood immediately, like always. His smile went back to its wide state, and he pulled Husk into his usual side-hug. Husk's heart skipped a beat at the gesture and… Oh, right… "Well now that you've brought your plight to my attention, we can fix it! So, my pal, what exactly is it that you want from me? I can certainly bump some unimportant fools from my schedule to make room for you."

Husk looked at the hand on his shoulder with a bittersweet smile. Oh, he was tempted as Hell to take the easy way here. He could simply list the things they had had before, and not disrupt the status quo that had worked for decades. Alastor would probably be willing to let him sweep the rest of his shit back under the carpet in order to instantly repair their relationship – Alastor had become quite adept at compromises where it mattered somewhere down the line.

But it would be yet another band-aid solution to an infected wound. That, and Husk wasn't sure if it would be enough for him anymore now that he had let his feelings take a proper hold and could barely look at Alastor without wanting to kiss him. Of course, if Alastor rejected him, then it would have to be enough, but if there was even the smallest chance…

He had promised Alastor a full explanation anyway, and had already made the decision to do this.

It was time to get a fucking grip and do this shit one more time. He had had the courage to do it multiple times back when he had been alive, so he could certainly man the hell up and do it now, too.

One more time.


	16. Unusual space

Husk leaned against Alastor and took a moment to enjoy the side-hug – possibly the last one he would ever get if things went south. Just one more moment before he would have to break the pureness of the gesture and potentially make Alastor regret every single one of the hugs he had given him. He could grant himself this one thing.

The moment was silent and warm, but couldn't last forever. After he could no longer prolong it or he'd lose his nerve, he shrugged the hand off of his shoulder and looked at Alastor, bracing for the rejection.

"Funny you should put it that way", he said, and tried not to read too much into Alastor's puzzled expression. "As I said earlier, that was just the recent shit, and the real problem lies deeper. We've actually been at this crossroad before, and back then you let me take the easy road, which I did. But I'm fucking tired of this bullshit."

He sighed deeply, and leaned back to make use of the backrest of the couch. He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, focusing on nothing in particular. "I'm fucking awful at friendship. I always take it too far on my end and get burned sooner or later, and unfortunately you're no exception to that. I've been fighting this shit for decades, but it appears I'm cornered now. I've let it go too far and I can't ignore it anymore, no matter how much I fucking wish I could. So brace yourself for shit you probably don't want to be any part of."

He forced himself to look at Alastor, who was looking back at him an attentively and wearing his brand of a serious look. It was clear he had no idea what to expect, and Husk wasn't sure if that was for the better or for the worse.

He swallowed nervously, and steeled himself. Just. Fucking say it.

"I'm in love with you, okay?" Husk said gruffly, and if this situation wasn't so loaded with anxiety, he would have found the way Alastor's jaw dropped and the screech of a record scratch funny. But it wasn't when it was directed at him and his dead serious feelings. He gave Alastor a few seconds to get over the initial shock before continuing. "I've been feeling this way for almost as long as we have known each other, with varying levels of awareness of it. I've just not said anything because I didn't want to risk you leaving me. I was satisfied with our friendship alone so it wasn't necessary to bring any of this shit to your attention. I'm only doing it now because you wanted answers and I'm sick of carrying this burden alone. And because the fucking hotel has depleted me of any fucks I had left to give, which wasn't that many to begin with."

He stopped there to give Alastor the time to digest the information, in case he wanted to cut the chase and immediately reject him. No use digging any deeper if Alastor wasn't even willing to listen, after all, and he didn't want to give him any more ammunition if there was backlash in the immediate future.

But Alastor simply stared at him, gears turning furiously in his head from the looks of it. He was probably looking at their interactions in a different light, and most likely quickly figuring out what Husk had meant with the crossroad earlier; the exact occasion it was referring to. It should really not be at all difficult to puzzle that out.

There was no immediate rejection, though. Not like there had been with Matthew, who had told him he “wasn't like that”, and then proceeded to avoid him until he got the hint and stopped trying to salvage their friendship. Or Jonathan, who had gotten disgusted by him and had cast him the fuck out of his life right away. Or fucking Jeremy, who had gotten violent because of him "trying to force faggotry on him". Husk’s ribs had healed quickly enough, but his arm had taken fucking forever, and it had bothered him on every cold or rainy day ever since. Hell, he still woke up with phantom pains sometimes despite literally having a different body nowadays. Needless to fucking say, Husk had stopped confessing to his friends after that, no matter how badly he may have wanted to. He hadn't wanted to risk it anymore.

So, at the very least Alastor was still sitting there, trying to come to terms with Husk's feelings, and obviously thinking of how to formulate his answer. An answer that Husk was still terrified to hear, even if it didn't involve being flayed alive.

"I see", Alastor eventually said, still obviously thrown for a loop and probably panicking a little in the confines of his own mind, but trying to get a fucking grip anyway. If Husk wasn't already head over heels in love with this man, this moment would have done it for him. "And what… How will this change our… relationship? What would you expect from me, were I to agree to humor you?"

Huh. That was… Was Alastor actually considering accepting Husk's love? A tiny little hope ignited in his heart, but he quickly extinguished it for the fear of hurting more in the end if it turned out he had misread the situation. Alastor could simply be getting the lay of the land to judge how severely offended he should be. Maybe he wanted to salvage their friendship and needed to know how fucked it was. Or maybe he wanted to understand Husk before making any kind of a judgment. Alastor was still hard to read at times, and now was definitely one of those times. He could not afford to assume shit.

Honesty was probably the best policy here. He was in deep anyway, so why not go all the fucking way? Alastor didn't bother asking things if he didn't actually want the answers.

"I think the easiest way to answer that is to answer your earlier question", Husk said, and took a deep breath. He was actually feeling strangely calm now. Maybe it was because he had taken the leap and wasn't a bloody mess on the floor yet, which had been the worst case scenario. While he wasn't in the clear here, at least he had dodged that one. It was a small victory, but a victory regardless.

"You asked me what I want from you", he continued. "Here's what I fucking want. I want to go to places with you when you suddenly have the urge to drag me out. I want to hit the pub and the casinos with you sometimes. I want to go grocery shopping and cook and eat together. I want you to make crepes just for me. I want to hold you close and fucking cuddle, maybe even sleep a whole night in each others' arms every now and then. I want to see your damn adorable little deer tail again, and rub my face against your ridiculously soft ears. I want to kiss you. Fuck it, I want you to kiss me good morning and good night whenever you can like a sappy little shit. I want to be able to tell you I love you, and you don't even have to say it back; just accepting it is good enough. Hell, I don't even need all of this. Even some of these things would make me stupidly happy. Whatever scraps you might be willing to give me at this point would suffice. But yeah, this is the long and the short of it."

Alastor stared at Husk with wide eyes and a fixed smile, and Husk could hear a faint rushing noise like a radio had been left on a wrong channel. He was pretty sure that counted as an audible example of someone's internal screaming. It wasn't very encouraging, but not unexpected either – Husk had seen Alastor freeze because of suggestive things happening around him or being said to him before. This was more or less the same. It was fine. It was normal.

"I… when have you seen my tail?" Alastor asked with a voice and tone that screamed 'I'm panicking and my brain latched onto the first thing it could in order to buy me more time to get my shit back together'. Husk could roll with that. Alastor could have all the time in the fucking world if it meant he wouldn't leave him. Husk could work with this topic for now and pretend there was nothing else going on. He had plenty of experience ignoring his fucking feelings and continuing on like everything was fine and dandy.

"Remember that time I found my way to your house on my own? I saw it before you noticed I was around", Husk said, managing to even feel slightly smug about it, despite the current situation. Because that day had been glorious. "I've been hoping to see it again ever since. Is it as soft as your ears?"

Alastor looked a mix of indignant and incredulous and it was the best fucking thing in a long while, almost enough to distract Husk from what was going on. "I did suspect for a while, I must admit. As for your question, I haven't compared."

Maybe it was the fact that Alastor was beginning to relax again, and they were having a regular conversation like nothing in particular was happening, but Husk had to fight himself to refrain from volunteering to test the softness right then and there. As surprisingly well as this conversation was going, he knew that would definitely cross a line. Instead, he just hummed noncommittally.

There was a moment of silence, and then Husk's wing brushed Alastor's arm as it relaxed and couldn't quite stay out of Alastor's personal bubble because of the abnormal space between them. They both turned their heads at the same time to look at the spot where their limbs touched, and then their eyes met again. Damn, Alastor's eyes were so weird with the unnatural red colours, but beautiful in their own way.

He had it so fucking bad.

Alastor sighed and smiled softly at Husk before lifting a hand to caress the feathers. Husk's breath hitched and his heartbeat picked up in speed.

"This is a fine mess we find ourselves in, isn't it?" Alastor asked, and looked at where his fingers were running a path down a long red feather. He looked really fucking tired. "I'm at a bit of a loss. I haven't felt anything like what I've gathered being dizzy with someone is supposed to feel like towards anyone, you included. I've never desired or sought out any of it. I'm inclined to believe that I'm incapable of it in the same manner that I'm completely uninterested in physical intimacy."

Husk's heart was doing some seriously abnormal shit. It was beating way too fast while apparently also skipping every other beat. Was cardiac arrest a thing that could happen in Hell? He would probably find out soon. Regardless, his heart seemed to have moved to the bottom of his stomach where it was rapidly digging a bottomless pit of cold emptiness that Husk might soon retreat to and never come out of.

Alastor didn't feel the same. Was incapable of feeling the same.

Damn. Damn it. Shit. Fucking hell.

Only the fact that Alastor kept talking stopped Husk from getting up and rushing into the kitchen to raid Alastor's liquor stash.

"Yet, I don't want to give you the icy mitt, either, because you're my closest friend and the person I care for the most", Alastor said with an incredulous chuckle. Husk stopped breathing, not even sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. So he simply put everything on hold and listened, holding his breath like a fucking sap. "I'm not… disturbed by the things you want from me. Not the same way I'm thoroughly repulsed by anything sexual. I noticed it wasn't on your list, by the way, which I'm thankful for.”

Alastor pushed Husk's wing back so that it was no longer between them, and looked up at him with one of those gentle smiles that Husk had ever seen directed at himself. “What you asked for isn't that different from what we already have. I could deal with the additional bits, although we'd still have to establish some physical boundaries, such as a no straddling policy. That said, it's reasonable to think that I can't give you the kind of love you want, even if I tried to. Would you actually be satisfied with me simply going through the motions for you? I find myself willing to do that, because it’s you. Hah, you’re the only person I’d ever even consider doing this for."

Husk couldn't fucking believe his furry ears. He stared at Alastor's handsome face in confused awe.

He hadn't been rejected.

Granted, what Alastor said meant that things were still kind of fucked up, but for fuck's sake, he had already accepted Alastor's lack of sex drive; his potential incapability of romantic love wasn't really that big of a deal. Sure, not having his feelings returned, possibly ever, sucked. But Alastor was still willing to give it a shot. Or hell, quite likely he was already committing to it long term, because Alastor didn't do things by halves. If Alastor was willing to give him kisses despite not being romantically interested, he would probably not mind doing it for the rest of eternity, even if it turned out no romantic feelings magically manifested in his heart. It wouldn't make a difference to him at that point, as it would simply be yet another affectionate gesture among the others. 

And he seemed willing to accept Husk’s love for him, even if he couldn’t return it.

It was a difficult concept to wrap his head around, but maybe he didn't need to yet. For now, he could concentrate on the immediate situation.

So, like Alastor already asked, would that be enough for Husk? Could he live with the fact that his feelings might be one sided forever?

...

Hah! What a stupid fucking question. He had already once accepted his fate of remaining just friends with Alastor, which had meant pining forever. This offer here? He wouldn't have to hide his feelings. He would, presumably, get to kiss Alastor. Their friendship would still be there, but with added benefits.

Fuck yes he could live with that.

"May I kiss you right now?" Husk asked baldly, looking at Alastor with his best poker face while his heart hammered like crazy again.

Alastor was visibly startled by the question, and his glowing, red eyes darted to Husk's lips. His eyes lingered for a moment that was long enough to make Husk think he had asked for too much too soon, but then Alastor cradled his face, leaned towards him and pressed their lips together.

Whoa!

Damn.

Hell yes.

While the simple little kiss was the best fucking thing in the history of things, Husk still found something missing. ...Oh. He knew what. Closeness. Alastor was too far away from him, and it was about the fucking time that was fixed.

He wrapped his arms around Alastor and gently pulled him closer, so that they were finally sitting side by side, like they always did when Alastor was receptive to touch. That issue solved, he closed his eyes and moved his lips against Alastor's, which Alastor copied after a beat, which in turn made his heart do interesting jumps and loops that were much nicer than its earlier attempt to dig its way through his stomach.

Husk didn't bother to hide his deliriously happy purring as he pressed a few more simple kisses on the smiling lips of the Radio Demon, and finally pulled away because he could no longer contain his own wide smile.

"Fuck yes I'll be satisfied if I get to have this", he said with a happy chuckle, and buried his face in Alastor's neck with intensifying purring. "I can definitely live with this."

He heard a relieved laugh, and thin fingers started carding through the fur on the back of his neck.

"Then so can I. That wasn't too bad. I can commit to this."

On hindsight, this conversation, this entire fucking mess of Husk's accumulating feelings over the decades, had actually been very fucking easy to solve because of the unusual space between their hearts. It wasn't quite the closeness of lovers. It wasn't quite the distance of not-lovers. It didn't matter if Alastor's feelings didn't line up with Husk's perfectly. What mattered was that whatever kind of love Alastor had for him – be it friendship or familial or something completely outside of Husk's understanding – had him already be near enough to close the space between them with ease and get them where they should have been all along.

Husk fucking loved Alastor, and he was finally allowed to show it.

He snuggled closer, and Alastor was more than happy to cuddle with him after all the months of unnecessary distance. Everything and everyone else could damn well wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some things of note:  
> 1\. Chapter 7 of Fine, jackass! comes between this chapter and the next one.  
> 2\. Look at this [absolutely amazing fanart](https://ruffianbc.tumblr.com/post/190753900687/finally-heres-the-denouement-we-have-waited-in) for this chapter! AAAAA!  
> 3\. My Fanfic Jesus Chosen One PurpleTussock knew about the aroace Alastor, and this is a shout out for them now that the secret is out: HYYYAAAAAA! ;)


	17. Nobody else but you

"Good morning, Husker!" Alastor said, and pulled him into a snug side-hug. Husk grunted, and looped an arm loosely around Alastor's waist, too fucking hung over and tired to do much more than that.

"Not so loud, asshole", he muttered, and pressed half of his face into Alastor's chest. If that also blocked half of his hearing because it smooshed his ear on that side, it was simply a coincidence.

"Hah! If you wanted peace and quiet, you could have stayed in your room for a couple of more hours. You know Charlie no longer expects much of a steady schedule from you."

He wasn't wrong. But…

"It was cold and lonely after you left", Husk said under his breath, but was unsurprised when Alastor heard him anyway.

Alastor gently tilted Husk's head up and gave him a searching look. He always did that if Husk even hinted at being lonely or unhappy nowadays, and while it warmed his heart and was frankly endearing as fuck, Husk was more than ready for Alastor to stop fretting already.

He rolled his eyes. "Relax. I've simply missed you, and that's normal. You're not doing anything wrong and I don't require anything in particular."

Alastor's smile softened, and he pressed a kiss on Husk's nose. The flips his stomach performed immediately after had nothing to do with his hangover.

"Unless something comes up, I'll be around tonight", Alastor said, and Husk purred lightly at the thought.

The thing was, Alastor had started sharing a bed with him – for sleeping, obviously – a couple of weeks after they had gotten together. It wasn't every night, and sometimes he only stayed until Husk fell asleep, but it was typically a couple of times a week. But just now there had been a gap of almost an entire week, before Alastor finally showed up in the middle of last night and left early in the morning for work. It honestly wasn't alarming in the slightest, because while Alastor was adjusting to their newly found relationship damn well, he still had his touch aversion going on and cuddling for an entire night was clearly pushing it, despite his general want for cuddles.

There were times when Alastor didn't want Husk to return any of his touches, and times when Husk had basically free access to his body, his cute little deer tail included – with a few obvious restrictions, of course. Sometimes Alastor would press himself as close as humanly possible the moment Husk turned in for the night. Sometimes Alastor would be the big spoon in order to limit how much Husk could touch him, while still being close. Sometimes he would be in the same bed, but they would only hold hands from the far sides of it, if even that. Mostly Alastor just slept in his own room in order to have space. Husk was fine with all of it, but he couldn't help missing Alastor's presence and warmth after only getting a brief glimpse of it after days of practically no contact.

It was always up to Alastor to set the boundaries of the day, and that meant Husk never knew if he'd get to fall asleep in Alastor's arms or not. But it was a small price to pay for the privilege of getting said contact in the first place.

"You're really fucking soppy for someone who doesn't comprehend romance", Husk said with a smirk. Or at least he told himself it was a smirk and not one of those goofy lovestruck smiles that people who weren't him pulled at times. His continued purring was adamant in trying to prove him wrong. Fuck his purring.

Alastor laughed, and squeezed him closer. "You only have yourself to blame for that, my dear! I'm simply following your lead, after all."

Fuck that truthful bullshit. Husk preferred to live the lie where he wasn’t the mushy bastard.

"Just shut up, Al."

Alastor chuckled, and started scratching Husk's ear while humming quietly, and Husk closed his eyes, purring contentedly.

...He was definitely the mushy bastard.

\-----

It was one of those days.

Husk watched impassively as the lobby turned into a ballroom and every single demon in it, him included, found themselves wearing Victorian dresses or suits. The residents and regulars mostly didn't give a shit anymore and just rolled with it, but the newcomers' faces were fucking priceless and got an actual chuckle out of him.

Alastor laughed and a song started playing from out of nowhere. It was a queer mixture of whatever the typical ballroom shit was called and swing music. And, of course, Alastor had lyrics to go with it. That explained the recent frequent bouts of humming – Alastor had been writing the song in his head.

Husk rolled his eyes and served the drink he had been preparing, only half paying attention to Alastor's bullshit: his enthusiastic singing and him forcing random demons into dancing parts of the song with him before tossing them aside without a care.

Husk did have to admit, though, that Alastor pulled the lace jabot and the deep red tailcoat really damn well. He found himself staring whenever he could see the action from his vantage point, but considering the chaotic manner Alastor operated in and the crowded room, that was only a few glimpses.

Husk managed to serve a few more drink with blissful ignorance before he noticed that the ballroom and the music stayed even after Alastor was finished with the singing part of his impromptu musical number. That was unusual.

Just as he finished that thought, Alastor appeared in front of him. He bowed and extended a hand in Husk's direction, an expectant smile on his face.

For fuck's sake.

Husk looked at the smile, and then at the hand, and then at the ballroom that actually had a few demons voluntarily dancing now. Charlie and Vagatha included, of course.

...For fuck's sake.

"I'm only doing this because I love you, you attention seeking asshole", Husk said with a sigh, and took the hand.

Alastor beamed at him with such utter delight that Husk found himself silently agreeing to dance to as many songs as Alastor dared to ask him for.

"I know, Husker~"

\-----

"--and I'll be back in three days", Alastor finished, and leaned over the counter to drop a quick peck on Husk's lips. A really quick one. The kind where Husk barely had the time to even pucker his lips to receive it and then it was over already.

It wasn't that he was disappointed. He was always happy to get a kiss from Alastor, no matter how brief it was or where it was dropped. But… Okay, he was a little bit disappointed, despite his attempts to not be.

He wouldn't see Alastor for three days. Potentially five, even, as Husk's days off came directly after the business trip. Now, Alastor would probably drop by Husk's location briefly when he returned, but he'd have to get back to work right after it, and he'd no doubt be very busy for the next couple of days. So unless he showed up during the night to cuddle with a well passed out Husk, they wouldn't properly see each other until after his days off.

In that light, the brief peck from across the counter felt inadequate. Husk wasn't sure what exactly he wanted, but it boiled down to "more". A bigger kiss. Or multiple small ones. A hug. Something. He pondered on whether to say something, as Alastor wanted him to tell him these things, but it felt like such a clingy thing to whine about that he was inclined to let it slide and just deal with it.

Alastor was staring at him with a thoughtful look now, so his troubled thoughts were probably written all over his face. Husk sighed, and prepared to speak his mind before Alastor would need to ask...

But Alastor disappeared, and then reappeared right in front of him, well in his personal space. Husk didn't have the time to do more than flinch in surprise when Alastor already held him by his shoulders, pushed him against the liquor cabinet, and kissed him roughly.

Husk's mind blanked completely. Alastor was- Damn. Yes. Fucking yes, please!

Husk wasted no time wrapping his arms around Alastor's waist and returning the kiss enthusiastically. His head was swimming and his heart was beating wildly and his purring was loud, and holy fucking shit this was the best damn thing!

It lasted maybe ten seconds before Alastor pulled away from the kiss. His nose crinkled and his eyes narrowed, and his smile was more of a grimace than anything else. "Ugh. That was disgusting."

Disgusting? Huh. Welp, Husk didn't care. Future Husk could make-do without this as necessary, but Present Husk was fucking high from the heated kiss. He smiled widely, gazed adoringly at the love of his afterlife, and nodded. "Uh-huh."

Alastor looked at him, eyes narrowing further. "...You enjoyed that?"

Husk nodded again, and then burst into stupid fucking actual giggles like the lovestruck fool he was, and leaned his head against Alastor's shoulder. He tightened his hold around Alastor's waist and tried to figure out how to laugh and purr at the same time without choking. It was a challenge.

"...Special occasions, then", Alastor said after a moment, stroking Husk's shoulders.

Husk was more than okay with that. He would later try to tell Alastor that it wasn't necessary if he found it gross, but his token resistance was summarily ignored, and who was Husk to tell Alastor where to set his limits? He would simply have to make sure to not – neither purposefully nor accidentally – guilt-trip Alastor into doing it any more than what he felt inclined to give on his own accord.

They would find a balance that worked, he was sure.

\-----

It was supposed to be a regular fucking day. Alastor was having one of his rare days off, and Husk was manning the bar as usual. With Alastor out, the day should have been a particularly peaceful one for everyone in the hotel. But no. Of course not.

The radio behind Husk made a sudden tuning noise, cutting the music channel out.

" _Hello, sinners and demons alike! This is your favourite host, Alastor!_ "

A broadcast? Husk had thought Alastor was simply visiting Mimzy and Rosie today for some quiet social time. Had something gone wrong? He turned around to give the radio a concerned frown, ignoring anyone who might want to order something; they were wholly unimportant when there was a potential need to worry about Alastor.

" _Today I have a very special broadcast for you! I was visiting a friend of mine and she had the most brilliant idea that I want to put into practice immediately._ "

Okay, so not a murder-spree, then? Husk felt his shoulders relaxing as the anxiety evaporated.

The opening notes of a song he wasn't familiar with started playing out. Huh.

" _This song is dedicated to a very special person. You know who you are, but in case you're doubting it, your name starts with an H._ "

...Wait a fucking moment-!

" _I'm not one of the greedy kind  
All of my wants are simple  
I know what's on my mind~_"

Alastor was singing. He wasn't playing a record, he was singing the song himself.

Alastor was fucking serenading Husk via the radio!

His face felt like it was on fire and his heart was doing crazy shit again. He covered his face with his paws and his entire being with his wings and leaned against the counter, shaking with too many fucking emotions at once.

He started hearing wolf-whistling, laughter and applause. Everybody in the hotel knew about him and Alastor, and they knew exactly what was happening. So naturally they had an absolute ball about it at his expense.

He was going to kill Alastor. First kiss him silly, and then kill him. Same with Mimzy, because this had her name written all over it. He would kiss her, thank her, and then murder her in cold blood and set the remains on fire.

But revenge could wait. First he had an unwanted, but damned lovely serenade to listen to.

" _I wanna be loved by you, just you  
Nobody else but you  
I wanna be loved by you alone~_"

...He wasn't sure he would survive this song. Fuck damn it.

\-----

Husk glanced at the clock every two minutes. It was almost time. That is, if Angel Dust could be trusted to do his part.

He was nervous. But he was ready. He had practiced, he had tossed out any assholes he didn't want around, and he had been psyching himself for this for days now.

All he needed was for Alastor to show up.

He glanced at the clock again. It was time. Where the fuck was-

Angel Dust walked through the doorway, glanced at Husk briefly with a smirk, and then turned to look back. Alastor walked in right behind him with a mildly curious look on his face.

It was show-time.

Husk clinked a glass with a spoon to make everyone shut the fuck up. Then he climbed on the bar counter.

"Listen up, assholes. This song is dedicated to a very special jackass at the doorway", he said, and pointed a claw at Alastor, who had frozen on the spot like a deer in the headlights, pun very much intended. "In case it's not fucking obvious, his name starts with an A and ends with lastor. Enjoy."

He extended a paw towards Niffty, who was hiding behind the counter. She passed him the saxophone he had purchased not too long ago for this exact purpose, and gave him a double thumbs-up. He smiled at her, turned to give a deliciously red-faced Alastor a smug look, and brought the instrument to his lips.

It was payback time. A lovely but humiliating serenade for a lovely but humiliating serenade -style.

\-----

A few days later Alastor summoned his furby organ in the middle of the dining hall during dinner. It was one third sweet, one third agony, and one third absolutely fucking hilarious.

It was fucking On.

\-----

It was in the middle of the night. Everyone was fast asleep by then, Alastor included.

Husk smirked to himself and cackled a bit as he took his position by Alastor's door. Then he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and started caterwauling at the top of his lungs.

\-----

Charlie gave them a deadpan look. Vagatha glared.

Alastor and Husk did their collective best to look clueless and innocent.

"Listen", Charlie said, and rubbed her temples. She looked tired. "This is for the greater good."

Vagatha slapped a paper on the table between them. She looked equally tired.

Husk looked at the paper disinterestedly. Alastor didn't even bother.

"We have a new rule", Charlie said, and tapped the paper with a finger. "Serenading is no longer allowed within the hotel grounds. Also not in any way that is otherwise able to be heard here. Effective immediately and applies to everyone, but especially the two of you."

Alastor and Husk looked at each other mildly.

"This is rather a drastic measure, wouldn't you say, darling?" Alastor asked.

"Yeah, I haven't a clue what might have brought this on", Husk said with a shake of his head.

When Alastor broke down laughing, Husk had no chance in Hell in avoiding suffering the same fate.

\-----

Husk set the crate of various spirits down on the counter with a groan, and rubbed his aching back with both hands. He was too fucking old for this bullshit and should have roped someone else into doing it for him with that excuse. Some demons actually bought it, and Charlie's brainwashing tended to make the residents of the hotel nice enough to even be helpful sometimes.

He snorted at the thought, and begun the task of unloading the bottles on the shelves.

He was almost done when suddenly there was a smell of something sweet in his nose, and he whirled around.

"Hello, my darling! I saw you return from your quest of retrieving the giggle juice, and figured you might appreciate refreshments!" Alastor said with a wide grin, holding a plate of crepes drowning in syrup and topped with sliced bananas and whipped cream in front of him.

Husk nearly dropped the bottle of rum he had been holding in his haste to take a seat and make grabby hands at the plate.

Alastor laughed, and took a seat opposite of Husk so he could watch him enjoy his treat with a satisfied smile.

"You know what?" Husk asked after a few delicious bites. "I'll buy us tickets to the opening night of that new opera thingamabob you haven't shut up about lately. I can handle a couple of hours of melodic screaming this once."

Alastor beamed at him and leaned over the crepe plate to give Husk an enthusiastic kiss that left the dessert in shame with its sweetness.

"Oh Husker, I think I understand what love feels like now", Alastor said, and held a dramatic hand over his heart.

Husk almost choked on his crepe from his sudden fucking laughter.

\-----

"Well, this was a fun ride", Alastor said, arm looped around Husk's shoulders and a faux wistful tone in his voice.

Husk rolled his eyes, and turned his gaze away from the hotel's front door to give Alastor a flat look. "Sure, whatever. A fucking mess is what it was. Glad to be done with it. So, what's in the cards now?"

Alastor laughed, and squeezed him closer. "You have such a delightful way with words, dearest! And I'm glad you asked! You see…"

They turned around and walked away together, leaving the hotel behind them for good, each step taking them towards a new beginning.

Husk glanced back as they were turning the corner.

It hadn't been that bad a ride, really. The hotel had turned out to be the perfect environment for Alastor and him to build up their relationship and make it work seamlessly; the way it had worked before, but with new additions. The perfect place to set the new boundaries and widen the previous ones. Perfect for learning how to love each other under their rather unique circumstances.

As the hotel disappeared from his sight, he turned his head forward with a small, thankful smile on his lips. He wrapped an arm around Alastor's waist and simply walked by his side with no care about where they were headed. It didn't matter as long as they were in it together.

\-----

Husk swore. This was not going as planned. It had gone all wrong ever since his wing had got hit and he had been forced into the ground, and had had to deal with being imbalanced by the broken wing. One fucking mistake, just one, and suddenly he was beyond screwed.

He clawed at the mechanical leg desperately, despite knowing how useless that was. The foot pressed down harder, making him cough up blood and gasp for air painfully.

Fuck, Alastor would be hysterical for weeks if he died here.

"Hey, you crook!" Alastor's voice said, as if summoned by the thought, and suddenly the cyborg demon was violently tossed aside by a push from large, haphazardly branching deer antlers. Alastor was gasping for breath himself, and an open wound on his side was bleeding all over the place. His grin was terrifying. "Keep all of your appendages off my husband or I'll be forced to fetch my angel sword and bop you permanently!"

...Wait a fucking minute.

Husk stared.

The cyborg demon stared.

The minions around them stopped their individual fights to stare.

Alastor's menacing grin faded into confusion, and he gave Husk a questioning look.

"Uh, husband?" Husk clarified, and coughed up a few more drops of blood while getting up.

Alastor blinked, and then beamed at him. "Oh, right! I completely forgot a step! Will you walk the middle aisle with me?"

…

"You choose this moment to propose? Really, Al? Also, of course I will. Given that we fucking survive this bullshit", Husk said, and folded his wings painfully.

"Swell! Now please excuse me, I need to go and blow that fool down for daring to harm you", Alastor said, dropped a quick kiss on his bloody lips, and went on his merry way to murder a bitch.

Well then. Guess that happened.

Husk smiled to himself and went back into the fight. That was certainly a good motivator to get this battle over with and not die.

\-----

Their wedding was a big fucking mess. Not that Husk had expected anything different. No, he had simply made a few bets about the exact shit he expected to happen, and lo and behold, he was right about most of it. He was a life and afterlife long gambler, after all; he knew his shit.

Also, he knew his husband.

He watched the burning tent in mild fascination and was internally relieved about their useless wedding gifts being inside of it, as that meant they wouldn't actually need to take any of them home. Too bad about the excellent punch, though. He would have liked some more of that.

"Here you are!" Alastor said, and passed him a skewer with perfectly roasted, heart shaped marshmallows on it. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself, and really fucking handsome in his white, if slightly singed, tuxedo.

Husk accepted the gift and bit into one of the confections. "How many are dead or dying?"

"Most of them", Alastor said with a happy chuckle, and wrapped an arm around Husk. "The traps around the perimeter should take care of the rest. I have a crossbow in case someone with wings makes it out."

Husk hummed, and leaned his head against Alastor's shoulder.

This was the best fucking wedding he had ever been to, and it was his own.

He was married to the fucking Radio Demon. A man who didn't want to fuck him and whose love for him boiled down to all encompassing, absolutely devoted friendship rather than romantic love. A man who was a serial killer and had certainly more than a few screws loose. And Husk himself was a depression-ridden old alcoholic with more untreated trauma than was legal. And they were both in Hell.

“You know, Husker, my mother always told me to not marry a stranger, but to marry my best friend", Alastor said, and squeezed him. "I’m not sure if this is what she had in mind, but she was certainly right.”

Husk kissed the corner of Alastor's grinning mouth and turned to watch the flames with a content smile.

“She was.”

His afterlife couldn't possibly be any better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The song Alastor sings is "I wanna be loved by you" by Helen Kane.  
> 2\. Look at this absolutely beautiful [fanart of the last scene of this fic](https://ruffianbc.tumblr.com/post/190825293917/oh-my-gosh-it-happened-we-got-to-the-final-wow)! ;___; The boys are finally actual husbands and this art really drives that home<3
> 
> Thank you for reading this fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed the ride!

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Fanfic Progress Update tumblr blog: [Jadeile-writes](https://jadeile-writes.tumblr.com/).  
> There you can keep a track of how my on-going stories are progressing, see if something new is in the works, find out the expected posting dates, and see little sneak-peeks into the future chapters of my longer fics. I update the blog every Saturday with fresh info!


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